A Different Road III: Friend or Foe
by black-ink8922
Summary: AU. Its Harry’s third year as a Slytherin; prisoner Black is on the loose. Friendships will end, Black won't end up on the run, and Pettigrew won't escape on his own. Will Harry turn to the Dark Arts? Will his choices lead him down a different road?
1. Brooded Over Plans

**Complete Summary:** Its Harry's third year as a Slytherin; the infamous prisoner Sirius Black is on the loose after twelve years…and, of course, after Harry. So, to keep him safe, Dumbledore is having Harry spend the summer with the last person he would ever want to temporarily live with. Things only get worse as, at Hogwarts, Black keeps trying to break into the castle and friendships will end. At the end of the year, Black won't end up on the run nor will he end up a free man, and Pettigrew won't escape on his own, but with some unexpected help, making the ending of Harry's third year a can't-miss…

How will Harry's years at Hogwarts turn out, now that he's a Slytherin? Will he turn to the Dark Arts and be a follower of Voldemort? Or will he kill Voldemort, or die trying, after he learns of the prophecy? Will Harry's choices lead him down a different road? Follow and you will see...

**A/N:** Year 3 has now begun! Welcome back! I'll just say now that you should read the first two before reading this one. You _really_ won't understand anything if you don't/p p b **And the warnings are there for a reason! There will be a number of scenes of violence and hatred with some language. You Have Been Warned!**

Anyway, enjoy the third installment of the "A Different Road" Series! Interesting and astonishing things will happen! You'll just have to read on…

**Disclaimer: All things are from the wonderfully talented, abso-bloody-lutely brilliant J.K. Rowling! Only a few things are mine, like the Conglomerate Stone and random characters. I own nothing else!**

"Vengeance, deep-brooding o'er the slain, had locked the source of softer woe, and burning pride and high disdain forbade the rising tear to flow." 

-Sir Walter Scott

**1 **

**Brooded Over Plans**

Her high-pitched laughter had wrung in his ears for twelve years now. But it was no longer laughter making fun of what he had done years before; it was cold and cruel, mocking the fact that he was still in a jail cell unable to seek revenge on the man who had put him in this miserable, god-forsaken place.

The cold floor and stone walls around him always felt like ice to the touch. The emaciated prisoner with long, dark hair and sunken eyes lay on a flimsy, old mattress that rested upon a rusty iron bed. At the moment, the only thing the man was holding was a recently acquired newspaper.

Fudge had come by on his usual examination of Azkaban a couple days earlier. And with him that day's _Daily Prophet_ newspaper.

He so desperately missed knowing what was going on in the Wizarding world. He looked through bars at the front page, which rested comfortably in Fudge's right hand as the bowler hat-topped man stood in front of his cell, talking to a couple of guards. As he stared at the picture, he could have sworn he saw _him_ on the front page. He had to get that newspaper, no matter what.

And with some luck and wit, Fudge had actually given him the newspaper.

Now, the prisoner looked at the main picture on the front page, caressing the paper slightly as he held it. It was _he_ in the picture. The man was sure of it. There was no mistaking it. The Weasley family, a family he had once known, was standing in the black and white picture with him. They all smiled happily as they waved, unknowing.

But there he was: the bastard, who had sent him there. He had no idea of the prisoner's plans, which had been concocted over twelve years. And now he knew exactly where to go to kill the bastard. He would be going to Hogwarts. It said so in the article. The only problem now was getting out of Azkaban to actually commit the murder in which he had been imprisoned.

The prisoner folded the newspaper up, putting it in his trouser pocket as he brooded over his plans…

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A couple of hours later, a guard approached, looking morbid as a Dementor followed. The somewhat muscular man did his usual rounds like he did every other day, checking over each prisoner as he walked.

"What? Not moanin' in your sleep, Black?" said the guard, almost mockingly. "Yeh usually are when I come 'round."

"I don't think I will be tonight, Greer," Black said with a small smirk.

This only made the guard laugh. "Sure, sure," said Greer. He tapped the thick bars with his wand. "Sleep well." He walked away, his hollow laugh following him.

It was an advantage that Greer had seen him now, Black knew, because they wouldn't know he was missing until two days from now when Greer would make his rounds again. That would give him a two-day head start to get where he needed.

Black waited, slowly getting more and more impatient. He couldn't leave at the moment. The prisoner opposite him was still awake, clutching himself as he wobbled back and forth on the floor. And he couldn't be seen.

Two hours later, the prisoner across the hall had finally fallen asleep, moaning every now and then between his snores. Black stood, unfolding the newspaper from his pocket. He ripped the picture of the Weasley family carefully out of the paper, letting the unneeded part drop to the floor.

Black gave the picture a firm glance before stowing it into his worn-out and dirty trouser pocket. Then without further ado, he changed into a large, but extremely thin, black dog. The thick, metal bars were so cold as he squeezed himself through that a howl almost escaped him.

During the day, Dementors stood guard outside his cell, but after a certain time, they left to make rounds, and usually came back early in the morning. He knew because he felt the air drastically cool and his dreams always took a dark turn.

But now, just as he got through the ice-cold bars into the hall, a Dementor drifted by. The black cloaked creature stopped and so did Black, hoping it would just continue on and not notice anything.

Except that hope was slowly diminishing, it was being sucked out of him by the creature that stood so close. But his small ounce of hope had not been for nothing. The Dementor drifted on by, regrouping at the end of the hall with three others. Black, still in dog form, sighed in relief, but knew his journey to get out of Azkaban was far from over.

Black advanced down the hall and then continued down many more. He was careful as he went, glancing around the corner first, making sure that he wasn't going to run into any human guards.

Azkaban was a maze of corridors, hallways, and stairs, and considering he had only been through the halls once to get to his cell, it was going to take him a long time. An hour and a half later, he was sure he was close to the exit of the place. But standing near a doorway, his back to Black, was a guard, who was looking through folders containing parchment. Black registered the fact that he wasn't as muscular as Greer, and that he might be able to take him on.

He crept up to the guard, changing into a man as he went. When Black was behind him, he said, "Hey!" The guard turned, his eyes widening, and was about to yell something to alert the others, but Black punched him squarely in the face with all the strength he had, which wasn't much considering he hardly ate. The man fell back, knocking his head against the wall and slumped to ground, unconscious, the papers littering the floor around him. Black stumbled slightly. He put his left hand up against the wall to keep his balance.

It took him a minute of standing there, while constantly looking at the door and corners, to regain his energy. But Black had to move soon, or one of the other guards might find him. He looked through the small square window on the upper half of the door.

There was a wooden desk down the hall. A guard was sitting there, his feet upon the desk as he ate a sandwich. The hall between Black and the man were not prison cells, but rooms where the prisoners' belongings were kept – not that many of the criminals got them back. On one of the doors to the right was the sign "Wands."

Black was certainly not getting past the guard as a dog. No matter how friendly his disposition was.

He rolled the guard over with some difficulty and began to unbutton the guard's robes. He took the man's arms out of the sleeves and then grabbed the collar to drag the cloak out from under him. After pulling it off, Black put it on himself. The robe felt incredibly large over his skeletal body, but he buttoned it up anyway. He pulled the hood over his head, ready to walk into the next hall.

As Black opened the door, the other guard looked up. "That you, Doyle?" asked a gruff voice.

"Yeah," Black said, making his voice deeper as he kept his head down. He turned to the right and grabbed the handle of the door marked "Wands."

As he walked into the room, the guard said, "What're you—?" But Black slammed the door shut quickly. It was apparent the man knew he wasn't Doyle anymore, and he could hear the man's loud footsteps coming down the hall.

Black entered a large closet-like room with tall, wooden shelves upon with were hundreds of wands. Attached to each was a tag with the prisoner's name on it. He could see that they were organized in alphabetical order, so he moved to the first couple shelves on his left, hastily and fretfully searching for his name.

The guards footsteps were drawing nearer, so out of haste, Black took any wand. "_Colloportus!_" He heard the door magically lock, but Black knew it wouldn't stay that way for very long. He put the wand back to find his own.

The guard on the other side of the door beat against it forcibly. "Open up, prisoner!" said the gruff voice.

A minute or two later, after Black had found his wand, he stood with his left hand on the doorknob. The guard had stopped banging on the door, but he knew he was waiting outside the door for him. Black could hear his heavy breathing on the other side.

"_Alohomora!_" Black muttered under his breath. The lock unclicked, which he was sure the guard had heard. Black swung the door open quickly and stuck his wand hand out at the guard. "_Stupefy!_" he said, his voice rising almost to a yell. But he couldn't muster enough energy to yell even if he tried.

The guard was thrown back a couple feet. Definitely not as much had Black had more energy. He hit the opposite wall, and then slumped over once he had fallen.

Black closed the door behind him, and then pointed his wand again at the unconscious man. "_Obliviate!_" He repeated the spell once more to make sure the last couple minutes had never existed to the man.

There was hardly any energy left in Black, but he managed to drag the guard down the hall and back to his seat. Breathing heavily, he saw the guard's half-eaten sandwich, which he took for energy, placing it in his pocket. Black then remembered the other guard in the previous hall, who would need to have his memory modified, too.

So, Black went back down the hall more quickly and opened the door. The guard was still upon the floor. He pointed his wand and said the spell before going back, closing the door behind him.

Black strode, his breathing still quick, toward the desk. He checked that the hood was still over his head. His face was completely covered in shadow, his eyes were seemingly black, giving him an eerie look.

Once at the desk, Black pointed his wand at the guard for the last time. "_Enervate!_" he said. He stowed his wand quickly in his pocket.

The guard looked up as if nothing had happened, only a little confused. "Oh, Doyle! You slipped past me pretty quickly," said the guard. He looked around his desk, searching for his sandwich, which was currently in the pocket of the robes Black was wearing.

"Just need some rest. See ya 'morrow," Black said, lowering his voice as he began to walk toward the wooden door.

"Wait!" said the guard. Black stopped dead, tilting his head slightly to the left. The guard seemed to be searching for something on his desk. "I had a letter for you. Can't find it though. I'll give it to you tomorrow. 'Night."

" 'Night," Black replied.

With an air of relief and unbelievability, Black walked through Azkaban's large, dark wooden front doors. He took a few steps forward on the crunchy, dead grass at his feet; the warm air blew at him pleasantly as he looked up at the full moon. He hadn't felt wind or seen the moon in twelve years. He inhaled deeply as he closed his eyes. The smell of fresh air and the salty sea, the sound of waves slapping against each other.

Unfortunately, he still had a ways to go until he was competely free of the prison, the cold, dark Hell, standing behind him. More than half a dozen Dementors were hovering down the hill near the boats slightly to the left. A few more of the creatures were to his right, drifting closer towards him.

Black plunged his hand into his pocket to take out the sandwich and ate it ravenously. It took him less than a minute until it was completely gone. With the Dementors coming ever closer, Black changed into a dog. They didn't seem to effect him as much in animal form. He ran toward the cliff and could see the black watery depths below. There wasn't even a pause or hesitation in his stride, Black simply jumped over the edge.

There were about five seconds where nothing seemed to happen. It was as if he couldn't hear anything but his own breathing and rapid heartbeat. The only thing he could feel was the air rushing past him. Then he plunged into the water with a soft splash. It was so cold it chilled his bones and took the breath right out of him.

But out of determination to have his revenge, Black kept going, despite the quick numbing of his limbs and the shortness of breath. He told himself repeatedly inside his head to keep swimming, that he couldn't stop now when he had gone so far already. And with that willfulness, he eventually made it to the mainland.

Breathing heavily and shivering violently, Black pulled himself further ashore. He changed once more into a man before falling to the ground and rolling onto his back, his chest heaving. Still on the ground, he pulled out his wand to try his clothes. After going through all that, he would hate to die of hypothermia. It would have been a waste.

Black stood up, nearly ten minutes later, breathing easier, and took off the guard's robes. The newspaper picture was still in his pocket. He pulled it out carefully, so that it didn't rip, feeling the soggy texture, and dried that as well.

He looked intently at the picture and the man he sought to kill. When the picture was safely back in his trouser pocket, he turned around to face the island of Azkaban.

His lips formed into a large smile. He had made it out of that wretched place. Black threw his head back, and began to laugh, almost manically. The sound filled the air around him and anyone listening nearby would have thought it was a madman…

**A/N:** Oh, if you're wondering whose "high-pitched laughter" had been ringing in Black's ears, it would be his _delightful_ mother.

**

* * *

Preview of Chapter 2—Marks That Never Leave:**

The Weasleys are going on a trip to Egypt, but Harry's stuck with Dursley's and Aunt Marge…


	2. Marks That Never Leave

A/N: This chapter is a few days earlier than the last chapter with Sirius Black. Chapter 1 had been Tuesday, July 13th; this chapter is Friday, July 9th. Just so you know and aren't confused. Happy reading!

**2**

**Marks That Never Leave**

_There was an unbearably irritating hooting noise coming from the side of the stranded ship that Harry was on. The ship kept shaking from the enormous, sickly green waves, but the owl didn't move at all; its claws were latched onto the wood. But then a monstrous wave came at the ship, plunging Harry in cold water…_

Harry's legs twitched slightly in his sleep and he awoke.

The boy, who rolled over onto his side in the direction of his bedside table, had been at the Dursley's house for just over a week. And it had not been very pleasant. Uncle Vernon, like last year, had taken his trunk and wand away from him. They were now downstairs, locked in the cupboard under the stairs. He couldn't do any of the summer homework assigned to him, and hadn't been able to do any Animagus reading.

Paranoid Harry might get contact from "his kind," Uncle Vernon had also put a large padlock on Hedwig's cage. It was just like Harry, whose barred window and locked door didn't give him much comfort on the fact that he might escape soon.

And so far, he hadn't gotten any letters from anyone magical, but then he heard the hooting noise again. He opened his eyes to see that upon his bedside table was a small, tawny owl with a letter tied to its leg.

He didn't know what time it was, although Harry decided it was too early to be opening letters. But, nevertheless, he grabbed his glasses and untied the letter from the owl, whom he knew was the Weasley's. He noticed the envelope was thicker than usual, and opened it without delay.

The first piece was a newspaper clipping from the _Daily Prophet_. The top of it read:

**WEASLEY WINS GRAND PRIZE  
AT MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

_The _Daily Prophet_'s annual Grand Prize  
Galleon Draw has found a winner: a Mr. Arthur  
Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts  
Office at the Ministry of Magic. A smiling and  
cheerful Mr. Weasley, whose arms were full as he  
held a large bag of Galleons, said to a reporter,  
"My family and I will be taking a nice holiday to  
visit my eldest son, Bill, in Egypt. He works at the  
Gringotts Wizarding Bank as a curse breaker. I'm  
know we'll have a great time there." After being  
asked when they'll be leaving and for how long, Mr.  
Weasley said they would be leaving the 19th of  
July, returning back in a month, so five of his children  
can get ready for their next year at Hogwarts._

Atop the words was a picture of the Weasley family in black and white: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley on the left, looking cheerful; Percy was beside his mum, looking slightly pompous but also happy; Fred and George were next, smiling and waving to the camera, the usual mischievous glint in their eyes; in the front was Ron, who had Scabbers resting comfortably on his shoulder, and Ginny, both of whom were looking ecstatic.

The background was of the garden at the Burrow. Harry could tell from being there last year. They all looked so excited at being able to spend a holiday away in Egypt. Harry was happy for them, especially for Ron, who he knew didn't like being thought of as poor.

Harry laid down the newspaper clipping and opened the envelope to collect the piece of parchment. He saw Ron's large, untidy handwriting:

_Harry, _

We won! We won seven hundred galleons! When my dad came home from work yesterday and told my mum, she screamed in happiness. I thought someone had died or something, but when I came downstairs, my dad told me. I'm so excited! I get to go to Egypt and see how my brother, Bill, works since he's a curse breaker. My second-eldest brother, Charlie, will be meeting us there, too. We're leaving the 19th and we'll be back I think the 15th of August. You're welcome to come over to the Burrow when we get back. I'll write you from Egypt. Talk to you soon, 

_Ron_

_P.S.—Percy's Head Boy. That's the reason he looks so bigheaded in the picture. That was the day he got the letter. Bye._

Harry laughed slightly at what Ron had written about his older brother, Percy. He checked the picture again out of curiosity and laughed more: Percy did look bigheaded and he realized Percy was wearing a shiny, silver badge on his robes.

He placed the newspaper and letter back in the envelope, putting it afterwards on his bedside table.

Harry got dressed in Muggle clothing, since Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia wouldn't allow him to wear his wizard clothes, and decided it was time to go downstairs. As he closed his door, he heard a woman's voice speaking very loudly from the kitchen. Harry couldn't wait for the horrible woman sitting in Uncle Vernon's kitchen to leave.

Unfortunately, that horrible woman was Aunt Marge. She had already been there for five days and would be leaving tomorrow morning. Before she came, Uncle Vernon had told him to mention nothing about the magical world…_whatsoever_. Harry knew there would be consequences if he did. The first day she came, she began to taunt him with her cruel jokes, but loved Dudley like he was her own son. And as the days had drawn on, things hadn't gotten better. Even though he wanted to be nowhere near her, she, oddly enough, wanted him to stay close.

Aunt Marge's hearty and loud, but unwelcome laughter spread to the stairs as Harry walked down them. Aunt Marge saw him as he walked into the pristine kitchen and gave him a dark glance, as did Uncle Vernon, who was sitting at the table beside his sister. Aunt Petunia was washing her plate in the sink with too much soap and his fat cousin, Dudley, was eating away as he watched the telly closest to him. A piece of bacon fell onto his lap as he watched a show, but he didn't notice.

"Bring the other pancakes, boy," said Aunt Marge. Harry grabbed the plate with a stack of pancakes on it from the counter and put it in front of her plate. "I'll have three of them." This was not how he wanted to start his day, but nonetheless, he grabbed a fork from the table and pushed the food onto her plate. Aunt Marge didn't thank him, but started to eat as she talked to Uncle Vernon.

"I myself believe in the death penalty," said Marge. "If those bastards choose to commit murder, they should pay for it. Don't you agree, Vernon?"

"Completely," said red-faced Uncle Vernon, as he nodded in agreement. "It's only fair, after all."

Harry sat down across the table from Aunt Marge; Uncle Vernon on his left, Dudley on his right. Aunt Petunia turned to them from in front of the sink. "There was something on the news about the death penalty this morning, Marge," she said, still cleaning. "Government's reconsidering lethal injection. They might be stopping it altogether."

"A shame. A true shame, Petunia," said Marge. "Some people deserve what's coming to them." She looked at Harry, who had begun to eat some bacon and pancakes. She then turned to look at Uncle Vernon. "How did the boy's parents die?"

Uncle Vernon said in a small voice, "Car accident."

Aunt Marge looked at Harry, as if on purpose, and then turned to Uncle Vernon. "Deserved it, I think," she said in an unemotional, off-handed manner.

Harry looked up quickly from his plate. His mouth dropped slightly and his eyes narrowed at the incredulousness of her words. How could she think anyone deserved to die in a car crash? He knew his parents hadn't really died that way, but that was such a cruel and heartless thing to say. "No one _deserves to die_ in a car crash," he said, his voice rising.

"It had probably been their fault. They were probably the ones that caused the accident in the first place!" said Aunt Marge, her fat face turning slightly red. "Petunia, you always told me your sister and her husband had no sense in them."

Harry was now standing. Dudley looked away from the telly; what was going on around him was far more interesting.

Harry turned quickly to Aunt Petunia and said, "How dare you say that! _That is a lie and you know it!_" he yelled, and then turned to Aunt Marge, "And how dare you say my parents deserved to die! They were great people!"

Aunt Marge stood as well, her face as angry as Harry's. The chair had fallen with a thud behind her. Her hands were spread on the table as she leaned over it to look at him fiercely. The lights in the kitchen flickered and water stopped coming out of the tap, but neither Harry nor Aunt Marge realized as they glared at each other.

"_How dare you speak that way to your Aunt Petunia!_" said Aunt Marge, her voice almost at a yell. "She didn't have to let you into her house! She didn't have to make food for you everyday, give you clothes to wear, and put a roof over your inconsiderate head! She didn't have to take you in, in the first place! Had you been left on my doorstep, I would've chucked you into an orphanage!"

Harry was so outraged by Aunt Marge, he couldn't control the urge to scream back at her. And, frankly, he didn't want to control it, he wanted to set the urge free. "I WOULD RATHER BE IN A ORPHANGE THAN _HERE!_"

He threw his fork, which he hadn't realized he had been holding, onto the table with a clank, and strode quickly out of the room. He went up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door behind him.

To get the remaining fragments of anger left in him out, Harry kicked the wardrobe, which shook slightly. Hedwig hooted loudly. He kicked it a couple more times, his breathing quick and then stopped. He sat down on the edge of his bed, his chest heaving. He put his elbows on his thighs, his hands holding onto his forehead as he looked intently at the floor. He was still breathing heavily and it seemed to be the only thing he could hear, so he concentrated on it as it slowed steadily.

A couple of minutes later, Hedwig hooted again, probably thinking it was finally safe to make some noise. Harry felt drastically better, but not any bit less angry with his Aunt Marge. He couldn't wait for her to leave. Tomorrow morning couldn't come any sooner in Harry's mind.

An immensely loud banging on his door told him Uncle Vernon was on the other side and not particularly happy about what had happened. Harry got up, but didn't open the door. He knew his uncle would burst it open any moment now. And he was right.

The door had been opened so quickly, it swung into the wall, making a small crack from the handle. Uncle Vernon, red in the face with purple veins popping out in different places, strode into the room. He closed the door behind him.

"You _do not_ talk back to Aunt Marge or Aunt Petunia like that! Marge is right! We didn't have to take you in! I don't even know why we did in the first place! But if you _ever_, I mean _EVER_, talk back to her or me, like that ever again, you'll be out of this place so fast, no amount of magic will help you!" yelled Uncle Vernon. While he had been talking, his face had been slowing getting redder.

Harry figured Uncle Vernon had been so angry, he hadn't realized he had said the "m" word.

Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's left shoulder tightly, so it was exceptionally painful and his fingernails were digging into Harry's shoulder through the fabric of his shirt. Their eyes locked for a moment. "_I mean it_." He let go, but Harry could still feel the area where Uncle Vernon's fingernails had dug into his skin. His uncle left the room, leaving the door wide open.

Harry closed the door. He pulled at the collar of his t-shirt to see where Uncle Vernon had grabbed him. There were four fingernail marks and the area on his shoulder was red from being clutched so tightly.

With nothing else to do, he lay down on his bed and opened the envelope from Ron. He looked at the picture of the Weasley's, wishing he were at the Burrow with them.

----------------------------

"Boy, get down here to say goodbye to your Aunt Marge!" called Uncle Vernon from the hall.

Harry put down the bread, which he had been feeding Hedwig, and went downstairs slowly. He stopped a few steps from the bottom, not wanting to go any closer.

Aunt Marge was giving "Duddy-kins" a large hug. He was chewing noisily on some candy as he put his chubby arms around her. She then embraced skinny Aunt Petunia, so it looked like Aunt Petunia was being engulfed.

Aunt Marge turned to look at him, her eyes squinted and her mouth curled foully into a frown of disgust and dissatisfaction. As she turned, carrying her large bag, she said to Uncle Vernon, "I do hope that boy changes by the time I come back. Tell the teachers at that school, St. Brutes', that they can beat him harder. I don't like the way he talked back to me."

Her voice trailed away as she walked with Uncle Vernon to his car. Aunt Petunia closed the door and Dudley immediately left to go watch the telly. Harry went into the kitchen to get something to drink. Outside, the car roared to life and was driven away. An immense feeling of relief swept over him now that she was gone.

-------------------------------

Two owls flew in separately through the window, even with the bars present. One was small and a light ash color; the other was Mider, who was larger and dark brown. He grabbed the parchment tied to the small owl's leg and opened it. Curvy, very tidy handwriting was all over it:

_Harry, _

Has Ron told you that his father won the Grand Prize Galleon Draw? I'm so happy for him! He wrote to me twice already about how excited he is to be traveling to Egypt. I'm sure he'll have a superb time. Ron also told me Percy is Head Boy. I don't think Ron's very pleased about that. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that while he's in Egypt, I'll be in France with my family. I'll write to you from there. Maybe we can all stay at the Burrow when he and I come back. Have a great summer! Sincerely,

Hermione 

Harry untied the other parchment and unfolded it to see small, tightly-spaced handwriting:

_Harry, _

Did you hear that the Weasel's father won all that money? I can't believe they're going to spend it on a holiday in Egypt. You'd think they would be saving it since I'm sure they all sleep in one room. They'll probably never have that amount of money again ever! How pathetic! Anyway, I'll talk to my dad about when we can come get you. Bye,

Draco 

Harry refolded the parchment and placed both letters upon Ron's envelope. Everyone else seemed to be leaving to go on a wonderful holiday – Ron was going to Egypt and Hermione was going to France – but all he was doing was sitting on his bed, waiting to leave the Dursley's. He sincerely hoped Mr. Malfoy and Draco could come soon to take him to Malfoy Manor, so he would be far from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

He wished Draco was arriving at that very moment because he didn't know how long he could stand being there. But he knew he would have to wait. And wait, he did.

**A/N:** Thanks for reading!

* * *

**Preview of Chapter 3—To Whom It Concerns:**  
Harry goes to Malfoy Manor, but after realizing Black is on the loose, is suddenly taken away to the last place he would ever want to stay… 


	3. To Whom It Concerns

A/N: **Background information:** The wizard guards at Azkaban check the prisoners every other day. They checked Black in the evening on the night he escaped (as shown from the first chapter), and then they check two days later, realizing he is gone (which hasn't exactly happened yet). This chapter is the day after Black escaped. Just wanted to make sure no one got confused. Enjoy!

**3**

**To Whom It Concerns**

The air was cold for a summer night. The sky was crystal clear, there was not a single cloud, and a plentiful amount of stars were shining brightly in the indigo sky. As Harry walked, he glanced at the ether above, seeing how pleasantly free it all seemed to be.

He had been outside for a half-hour already, walking around the streets near the Dursley's home. He felt like being outside, a place where there were no restrictions, just like the night sky; unlike being with Uncle Vernon.

Ever since Aunt Marge had left four days ago, Uncle Vernon had yelled at him for every little thing. Harry had accidentally dropped his glass of water two days ago, and his uncle had shouted at him as though he had done it on purpose. He had also not gotten any dinner that night.

An obnoxiously cold breeze swept by Harry, making the hair on his neck stand. His raven hair, jeans, and thin long-sleeved shirt ruffled in the slight wind. He was glad he thought to wear a long-sleeve rather than short-sleeve shirt, and pulled at the edges of his sleeves so as to cover his hands more.

As Harry walked, he came upon a park he hadn't been to in years. He opened the old, metal fence, hearing it creak an invitation to enter. It was immensely dark since all the lights within the park were out. The only source of light was coming from a single streetlight near the fence. Only the rusting, metal slide was half-illuminated. He climbed the ladder, and then brought his legs over, so that he sat on the little plateau before the fall.

Harry looked at the houses on the street; they all looked the same, every one of them. The same white picket fence, the same windows in the same place with the same perfect lawn. What was even worse, was the fact that they all had the same fakeness about them – all smiles, but no real emotion.

Unexpectedly, there was a loud barking from behind him that seemed to rip through the darkness. Harry turned to see a massive, black dog. He jumped a little on the inside, but didn't move a muscle on the outside – only his eyes slightly widened. The animal was huge, but as Harry squinted his eyes in the darkness to get a better look, he realized the dog wasn't frightening at all. The dog was exceedingly worn-out: he was swaying slightly and could barely keep his head up, and was emaciated, like he hadn't eaten in days.

The dog gave another bark before Harry slid down the metal slide. The black dog came over to him as his feet hit the ground. Harry bent over, and rubbed the dog's back gently, feeling the bristly hair.

"Good boy," Harry said calmly. The dog growled pleasantly as he ran his fingers through the dog's hair. "How about we get you some food. Sound good?" The dog replied with two barks as if he understood.

Harry stood up and walked out of the dim park, the black dog following right behind him. He checked every now and then to make sure that the dog was still there. They crossed a couple of streets before they got to the Dursley's house. Inside, the Dursley's were watching the telly; Harry could see them through the window as they sat on the couch, their faces lit from the glare.

Instead of going through the front door, Harry decided to go through the back. He knew Aunt Petunia usually left it open to let in some air. The dog followed him obediently. Harry stopped at the back door.

"Stay," Harry stated, his palms facing the dog, motioning to stop. The dog did, wagging his tail with his tongue out slightly. Harry opened the door slowly, so he didn't make any noise; the Dursley's wouldn't hear him anyway. "Stay," he repeated, more quietly.

Harry crept into the kitchen. On the counter was some white bread, which he took a couple pieces of. Inside the refrigerator, were some cold pieces of chicken, but he didn't think the dog would mind. He grabbed a cup from the cupboard above the sink, and then turned the tap slowly. Only a slight amount of water dropped in at a time, but at least he knew he wouldn't be caught.

Soon enough, Harry was back outside. The dog looked up at him when he came over. Harry placed the food and cup of water onto the exceptionally clean stonework outside the door – Aunt Petunia's doing, of course.

The black dog sniffed the food before eating the chicken off the bone. Harry opened the door, ready to walk inside to go up to his room, but the dog barked softly.

Harry turned to look at the animal, which had stopped eating and had moved closer to him. It was clear that the massive dog didn't want him to leave, so he closed the door and sat down on the cool stone.

As the dog ate quietly, he checked for a name tag or any sign of where he had come from, but there was nothing. Harry just sat there, watching the dog in silence.

When the black dog finished, he went up to Harry, who patted the dog gently. The animal barked and then moved away silently. Harry watched as he went around the corner of the house. He sighed and proceeded inside. He walked past the Dursley's who were still watching the telly, and then crept up the stairs into his room.

He closed his door, threw off his shoes, and went to lie on his bed. Before taking his glasses off, Harry checked his watch; it was close to twelve am. Without changing, Harry fell asleep, not caring that he wasn't underneath the covers.

And not knowing that, outside, the massive black dog was sitting, watching the house from across the street.

--------------------------

The next evening arrived, and Harry was relieved to be going to Malfoy Manor after having to stay with the Dursley's for two weeks. The letter from Draco had come early that morning. He was grateful to be going into the wizarding world once more. He hated not being around magic, even if he couldn't use it himself yet.

Mr. Malfoy and Draco, after having said the unnecessary pleasantries and saying it was good to see him again, stood outside the door as Harry walked out with his trunk and Hedwig's cage. The two blonds followed him as he pulled his trunk further down the steps. Harry turned to look behind him when he heard loud growls. Hedwig started to hoot incessantly from her cage. The black dog from yesterday was standing between he and Mr. Malfoy. The dog was snarling fiercely as he bared his teeth at Mr. Malfoy, protecting Harry.

Mr. Malfoy stopped in his tracks, as did Draco, who was standing behind his father. "Go away!" Harry exclaimed. The dog turned to him. "Come on, go!"

There was another growl and Harry thought the animal was going to walk away, but instead he jumped at Mr. Malfoy, who raised his arm to shield his face, but the dog's nails, which looked like they hadn't been cut in years, dug into Mr. Malfoy's arm.

The blond man grunted in pain as he picked up his elegant cane, where Harry knew his wand resided. The dog moved away quickly at the sight of the slick, black cane.

"No, don't! He's just a dog," Harry said. They were still in a Muggle town, and someone might see if they looked out their window. "Go," he added to the dog, gesturing for him to leave.

Harry noticed the dog look at him before slowly walking away. He turned to grab his trunk again, but when he looked down the street, the dog was gone.

--------------------------------

The massive black gate stood in front of Harry and he couldn't help but smile. The gate opened slowly, but they were soon inside Malfoy Manor. Harry heard his footsteps against the gray marble floor as he stepped inside the Entrance Hall. Dobby approached, a smile on his face as he saw Harry. "Harry Potter, sir!"

"Hello, Dobby," he replied. Beside him, Draco give him a look with narrowed eyes.

"Dobby, you inconsiderate creature, take Harry's trunk upstairs," Mr. Malfoy ordered coldly. "Now!" His cloak sleeve was ripped and Harry could see some blood on his left arm. Cheerfully but with difficultly, Dobby took Harry's large trunk up the stairs.

Draco nudged Harry in the arm. "I know it's late, but we saved you some dinner."

It was when Draco said dinner that Harry realized how hungry he really was. He hadn't eaten anything since breakfast since he had been cleaning all day, thanks to Uncle Vernon. "Thanks. I'm starving."

Harry saw Draco look at his dirty hands. "I can't believe they make you clean. That's servant's work. I would never be caught dead doing something like that."

"I know," Harry stated. "But at least it passes the time while I'm there."

Harry walked into the Dining Hall to see a plate of food and the _Daily Prophet_. He grabbed the paper since he had been deprived of all things magical, and wanted to know what was going on in the Wizarding World. Draco stood next to him as he unfolded it. Harry scanned the first page for anything of importance. Near the bottom were thick, black letters, which read:

_**Fraud, Caught and Arrested**_

Harry said, "Listen to this:

"'_Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five-time _

_winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, Gilderoy Lockhart, has been arrested after _

_being c__aught trying to place a Memory Charms on a Mr. Nolan Millard, 47. Millard, who was responsible _

_for capturing three Acromantula that had become wild last year, was able to defend himself against _

_the Memory Charm and call the proper authorities. Lockhart, who is best known for his books, __such _

_as Magical Me, Voyages with Vampires, and etc. (Complete list on Page 4), placed the Memory Charms _

_on __others so that he could credit himself with their accomplishments. Lockhart has never done any _

_of the spectacular incidents mentioned in his books. Credit will be given to those who he has charmed._'" 

"That's pathetic," replied Draco. Harry and Draco chuckled at the man in the newspaper article.

----------------------

After Harry woke up late the next day, he put on his plain, black robe and crossed the room, knocking once first before opening the door that connected his and Draco's room. Harry saw that Draco was sitting at his polished wooden desk as he read a book. He looked up when Harry entered.

"You're awake," Draco muttered. He closed the book and stored it into a drawer as Harry walked further into the room. "I've been up for some time, but I didn't want to disturb you."

"I needed some extra sleep. Is there breakfast?" Harry asked.

"Probably. My father's most likely already down there. He always wakes early," explained Draco, as he stood up.

Mr. Malfoy was sitting at the head of the table, as usual, as he read a letter. Mrs. Malfoy sat at the other end, reading a romance novel. Harry and Draco sat down beside each other, having a conversation about the newspaper article they had seen yesterday, when an owl carrying the _Daily Prophet_ came in. Harry watched while sipping some pumpkin juice, as Mr. Malfoy gave the bird some money before it flew off.

The paper was laid in the middle of the table, unnoticed by anyone, so Harry picked it up and unfolded it. The article on the front took up the entire page.

**_Black Escaped from Azkaban_**

"What's Azkaban?" Harry queried, keeping his eyes on the paper.

"Wizard prison," responded Draco. "Why?"

"Listen: '_Two nights ago, prisoner Sirius Black, 34, escaped from Azkaban_—'" Mrs. Malfoy gasped aloud. Harry stopped to look at her. "You okay?"

"Yes, yes. I'm all right. Continue," Mrs. Malfoy insisted, quickly. She lowered her head to stare at her plate.

Harry turned back to the parchment. " '_Black had been imprisoned since November 1, 1981 for the murder of thirteen people including his old friend, Peter Pettigrew. The prisoner had been under constant watch, so when we asked Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, how this could have occurred, he kept quiet, walking away briskly. Black had been heard in the middle of the night saying, "He's at Hogwarts." We can only assume that he's after young_…'"

Harry stopped when he saw the name upon the paper: Harry Potter.

"Who's he after?" Draco asked curiously.

Harry released his grip on the parchment, and it dropped to the floor. He knew the Malfoy's were watching him closely. It was completely silent in the room. Even Harry could barely talk above a whisper when he said, "Me."

In the corner of his eyes, Harry saw Draco's mouth drop open. Questions were now running through Harry's head, but he couldn't seem to form them into words. Why was Black after him? Why did he kill his friend Pettigrew? How did he manage to escape?

A chime sounded, disrupting the silence, which told them that someone was at the door. Mrs. Malfoy jumped in her seat, crying out in shock when she heard the noise. "Dobby! Get the door!" called Mr. Malfoy. Harry just sat there. He couldn't believe this criminal, Black, was after him.

A minute later, Dobby entered the Dining Room. "It's a Mr. Arthur Weasley, sir."

Mr. Malfoy got up from his seat with Mrs. Malfoy and left the room, but not before saying coldly, "Stay here, Draco." Harry turned to Draco, who in turn looked at him. As silently as they could, they walked into the Great Room and peered around the wall to see into the Entrance Hall.

Mr. Weasley was inside, but as close to the door as he could be. "I've come to take Harry somewhere safe. I'm sure you've heard by now that the prisoner Sirius Black has escaped."

"Harry's safe here," Mr. Malfoy drawled callously. Mrs. Malfoy nodded beside him.

"Its under Dumbledore's orders that he be taken somewhere else," asserted Mr. Weasley as he gave Mr. Malfoy a defiant look.

"Dumbledore has no jurisdiction here," stated Mr. Malfoy.

"Maybe not, but the Minister of Magic does," Mr. Weasley instructed as he handed the blond man before him a piece of parchment. Harry watched as Mr. Malfoy surveyed the parchment before looking up again.

"Dumbledore went to the Minister of Magic?" inquired Mr. Malfoy incredulously.

Mr. Weasley didn't nod, but instead said, "He knew you wouldn't let Harry go otherwise."

Without turning away from the red-head's eyes, Mr. Malfoy called to Draco, telling him to help Harry pack his trunk. Harry and Draco just looked at each other. "Let's take the back stairs," said Draco. Harry nodded.

Once they were in Harry's room, Draco started criticizing their headmaster. "The nerve of Dumbledore! Going to the Minister of Magic to take you because he thinks you aren't safe here." Harry just shrugged as he grabbed his robes and a couple random books. "Malfoy Manor is completely safe!"

Harry turned to Draco. "I trust that Dumbledore will bring me out of harm's way. He wouldn't go through all this trouble just to bring me back to the Dursley's."

It was Draco's turn to shrug while Harry continued to pack his trunk. "I wonder where you'll be taken."

"_You wonder?_ I'm the one who's going to be staying there," Harry scolded. He didn't mean to be nasty, but it had come out that way. It must be the sudden panic that Black was after him, the abruptness that he was being taken somewhere and that it was all very secretive, which had caused him to lash out. He lowered his voice, "Sorry. It's just…" He didn't bother to finish.

"It's all right," mumbled Draco. "I'll take Hedwig's cage."

They walked out of the room and down the main stairs. Harry saw Mr. Weasley was in the same place he had been before. While Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were off to the side, awaiting their arrival. He knew the adults probably hadn't said a word to each other after they had left, or they probably would have had their wands at each others throats by now.

"Hello, Harry," said the red-headed man, trying to be cheerful. But there was obvious fatigue in his drooping eyes.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley."

Harry took Hedwig's cage from Draco and walked toward the door. They were about to leave when Mr. Malfoy called to them. "Where will Harry be staying?" he asked too kindly.

"It wouldn't be as safe if you knew," retorted Mr. Weasley.

Draco gave Harry a weak smile, but he couldn't seem to return it with heavy thoughts running through his mind, so instead he gave his friend a nod and followed Mr. Weasley down the stairs. They exited the large, black gate. "Let me help you with that." Mr. Weasley took out his wand and flicked it toward the trunk, which began to float.

A loud creak and the rasping sound of metal hitting metal told Harry that the gate had closed. "Thanks. Err…where're we going?"

"Not here. Once we get there, I'll explain." Mr. Weasley pulled out a portkey, in the form of an old bobble-head toy, which at the moment was shaking his head "no," out of his pocket.

Harry felt the familiar sensation of being pulled at every part of his body. Soon he found his feet touching the ground. Harry looked around to see beat-up cars in the driveways and broken satellite dishes on the roofs, and realized they were on a Muggle street. But it definitely wasn't as nice as Privet Dr. The houses were old and uncared for with vines, broken windows, and discolored paint. Some didn't even look lived in. Harry looked around for a street sign and found one.

The black letters read: _Spinner's End._

"You noticed the sign, I see. I presume you don't know who lives here," Mr. Weasley mentioned, as he began to walk further down the street. When Harry didn't say anything, he continued, "Severus Snape."

Harry's jaw dropped open, but he didn't even realize it until Mr. Weasley brought it to his attention. "Dumbledore told me you would have a reaction similar to that. I know you don't like each other, but—"

"_Don't like?_ Don't like doesn't even come close," emphasized Harry.

"I know, but this is the safest place right now."

"_This_ is the safest place?" Harry asked in disbelief, as he looked around the street.

"This is the last place Black would go."

"This is the last place _I'd_ go!"

Mr. Weasley stopped walking. "Harry, I know you don't want to be here, but it's only for a couple of weeks. Dumbledore's inside, he can give you more information than I can." Harry nodded grimly and they continued forward.

In a few minutes they were standing before a dodgy, two-story house, which had vines crawling up the sides. A black metal fence surrounded the house. On the sidewalk were the red spray-painted words: "Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here."

**A/N:** By the way, "Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here" is the supposed inscription at the entrance to Hell. Thought it would be amusing to have that spray-painted in front of Snape's lovely home. And more details about why Black is after Harry will be given to him in later chapters. Review, please. Thanks!

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**Preview of Chapter 4—Caged Inside:**  
An explanation from Dumbledore about why he has to stay there, Snape lays down some rules for Harry to follow, and Harry later finds a newspaper relating to Black… 


	4. Caged Inside

**A/N: I updated my Profile to explain why I wasn't updating as fast as I usually do, but I'm not sure how many people saw. So the reason I didn't update is because I was waiting for a few chapters to be validated on MNFF (fanfiction.) since they had to re-do nearly the entire website because of a hacker situation, so I couldn't submit chapters. And I didn't want a huge gap between MNFF and here. So, I'm sorry about the wait!!**

"I can't escape this hell. So many times I've tried. But I'm still caged inside. Somebody get me through this nightmare. I can't control myself."

-Three Days Grace, "Animal I Have Become"

**4**

**Caged Inside**

In a few minutes, they were standing before a dodgy, two-story house. A black, metal fence surrounded the house, which had vines crawling up the sides. On the sidewalk were the red spray-painted words: "Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here." Cement steps led to a faded black door. The number on the door was 448.

Mr. Weasley knocked three times on the front door, which was opened slowly by Headmaster Dumbledore, who looked genuinely happy to see him. Harry followed the two men in, his trunk still floating behind him.

The front door immediately led into the sitting room. Harry saw that the walls were lined with masses of mostly black-bound books. The part of actual wall that could be seen, which was not much, was off-white. Thick curtains covered the few windows, making the room exceptionally dim, especially since the only light was coming from a candle-filled lamp that hung from the ceiling. Harry breathed in dust that hung in the thick air.

When he came closer, Harry saw there was a three-person couch, which was overused to the point that the dark blue color was faded drastically in certain areas and slightly discolored in others from what looked like coffee spills. There was also a small, round cocktail table with worn-down polish and two armchairs, which were sitting opposite the couch.

One of the armchairs was occupied by Snape, whose arms were crossed over his chest, and even in the dark, Harry could see that there was a noticeably disgruntled look on Snape's face. But the first thing Harry noticed was the fact that Snape wasn't wearing his usual robes. Instead, he wore a dark gray collared shirt and black trousers, which was so unusual that Harry did a double-take.

"Now that you're here, Harry," spoke Dumbledore from beside the couch. "I can start the explanation. Professor Snape has been so generous as to let you stay at his home for a couple of weeks until we can find another suitable place for you to stay. It should only be for two or three weeks at most, I would say."

"But, Professor, why couldn't I have stayed with the Malfoy's? Why can't I go with Mr. Weasley? Or, better yet, why can't I stay at Hogwarts? Everyone's always saying that Hogwarts is the safest place in the world," Harry reasoned. He was practically begging, and he knew this, not to stay with Snape. Harry knew that nothing good would come out of staying with this man.

"Usually, I would insist you stay at Hogwarts, but seeing as Black intends you to be there, I knew it would no longer be safe. Your question as to why you can't stay with the Malfoy's or the Weasley's is simple: Black might go looking in both places. So you'll have to stay here," Dumbledore objected kindly.

"But why won't Black come looking here?" Harry questioned.

For the first time, Snape spoke. "_That's not something you need to know._"

Out of nowhere, a bright white, almost ghostly form of a cat with lines around the eyes came in through the semi-open window. Harry knew the cat looked familiar, but he couldn't place where he had seen it before. After a moment, the spectral disappeared on the spot.

"I must go. I trust you can explain everything else to Harry, Severus," Dumbledore muttered to Snape, who nodded.

Dumbledore turned to Harry, "I'll be visiting." Harry watched as his headmaster disappeared where he stood.

Mr. Weasley put a hand on Harry's right shoulder. "Sorry, Harry, must get going." He flicked his wand at Harry's trunk, which dropped to the floor with a thunderous thud. He lowered his voice. "I'll have Ron send you a letter."

The warmth of Mr. Wealey's fingers on his shoulder vanished when he Apparated away. Immediately after he had gone, Snape stood up from his chair and walked to the wooden stairs, which were to Harry's right.

Dragging his trunk noisily up the stairs, Harry followed. The stairs curved to the left. He realized he was now in a narrow hallway, which was barren of any pictures or books. There were four plain, wooden doors; two on either side.

Snape walked to the furthest door on the left and opened it. Harry dragged his trunk in, finally letting it rest comfortably on the floor. There was a twin bed in the room, as well a side table, lamp, and dresser. A small window was uncovered on the right. Harry was pleased to see that the air wasn't as thick and the room wasn't as dark as it was downstairs.

"This is your room. The one next to yours is the lavatory. Across from here is my room. Next to mine is the library, which you may go into if you so desire to. There are potions in there, those you are _forbidden_ to touch," Snape commanded. He looked at Harry with his usual sadistic manner. "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now that that is settled, there are some rules we have to go through – Dumbledore's rules. One, you are I_not_/I to go outside at any time whether I'm here or not. Two, you cannot tell _anyone_ where you are. Not even Malfoy. And three, no letters can be sent off or taken in. We can't bring attention to ourselves by having owls constantly appearing here. Especially since it's a Muggle town. There's one other thing; should some sort of emergency transpire you are to go into the hidden chamber that is concealed behind the wall of books opposite the stairs in the sitting room. Understood?"

"Understood," Harry retorted mockingly, but he hadn't intended it to be.

Snape took a few steps closer. "Don't be smart with me. You should be grateful I'm letting you stay here. If it weren't for my graciousness, _you would have_ _nowhere to go!_" His voice gradually got louder, as he looked at Harry with narrowed eyes.

Snape exited the room, slamming the door behind him. Harry didn't move or take his eyes off the door, until he heard the door across from his close.

Sighing, Harry made his way to the bed. He sat on it, looking at the floor, but then fell back as he stared at the discolored, slightly watermarked ceiling.

Sarcastically, he said, "Grateful? Sure."

--

Harry changed into Muggle clothes – a blue t-shirt and jeans – seeing as Snape wasn't wearing his robes. He had written a quick letter (despite what Snape said) to Draco, telling him he was safe, but giving no indication as to where he was. At least he was following some of the rules. He let Hedwig go out the window in his room since he technically wasn't allowed to send letters.

"Potter!" Snape's call made Harry jump. He still, even after being there all day, hadn't gotten used to the idea of temporarily living with Snape. His professor called to him again from downstairs. Harry checked his watch and saw that it was a little after seven pm.

Getting up from the creaking bed, Harry walked down the stairs. As he pressed on the third to last stair, he realized that it creaked loudly. He saw that Snape wasn't in the dark sitting room, and then realized that, from the stairs, there was a small kitchen to the right of the front door, which he hadn't noticed upon entering before. The floor was made up of small, rectangular white tiles and the walls were wallpapered a pale yellow. There was a worn-down circular table with three wooden chairs. Upon the table, Harry noticed, were two plates with sandwiches and two glasses.

One of the sandwiches was being eaten by Snape as he sat in the chair facing the door-less opening where Harry stood. He sat down uncomfortably and took a bite of the turkey sandwich. He glanced up to see that Snape was looking at him. His professor muttered, "It's the best I can do."

"Its fine," Harry replied. He looked around the kitchen. A couple of books were on the faux black and white marble counter. But then Harry saw a white refrigerator in the corner. "You have a refrigerator? Do you even know what it is?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Obviously, I know what it is, Potter," retorted Snape, giving him a cold glare.

Neither of them said anything until Harry glanced inside his glass. He guessed that Snape must have seen him because he revealed, coldly, "It's not poison, its just pumpkin juice."

A minute later, Snape finished his sandwich and cleaned his plate with his wand. Harry heard him walk on the third step. He was still eating when Snape came back down in his usual black cloak with buttons on the arms.

"I have to go out," Snape grumbled unemotionally.

Harry swallowed the part of the sandwich he was eating. "Go out where?"

"If you _must_ know, I'm putting an article in the _Daily Prophet_ looking for a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Dumbledore asked it of me since he's busy with more important matters. Matters concerning you," Snape drawled. He left the room, but then walked back in. "All rules are still applicable." And with that he Disapparated.

After finishing his sandwich, Harry decided he would take a look in the room upstairs, which Snape had said he could enter. The door creaked, giving a groaned invitation, when he pushed it open. Instantly, Harry saw that there were heaps of books and even old wizard newspapers. Most of the books were on a bookcase against the left wall that reached from the door to the opposite wall and from ceiling to the floor. The rest of the books were spread around the room in large piles that were nearly as tall as Harry.

There was a single high-backed, dark red armchair. It wasn't as worn out as the other pieces of furniture in the house, so Harry assumed Snape didn't come up here as much. There was a rather large rectangular, wooden table, which had more books on it, in the center of the room. There was also a small window opposite the door, which was covered by a thick curtain. In the closest corner on Harry's right, was a smaller table with the vials that Snape had mentioned.

He walked further into the dust-filled room and picked up the book that lay closest to him on the table. He could just make out the title Defending Yourself and Others through the layers of dust.

Piled on the table and on the floor were old newspapers. The top newspaper on the table was from eight years ago. It was just then that Harry remembered the newspaper he had read this morning had had a specific date on it; the date that Sirius Black had been arrested and sent to Azkaban. Harry thought for a second and remembered: November 1, 1981.

After about two hours straight, Harry had searched through most of the newspapers in the room, but couldn't find a newspaper with that particular date or one close it. Not even one relating to Sirius Black.

Harry was close to giving up, but picked up another newspaper anyway. It was completely covered in dust. Wiping away the left corner, Harry saw the date was November 1, 1981. Harry blew away the dust, which only made him sneeze afterwards. He waved his hands in front of his face in an attempt to get rid of the filthy airborne particles.

When he was satisfied with the condition around him, he took a seat on the red armchair and took a closer look at the newspaper.

Most of it was covered in, what looked like, large coffee stains. He could hardly make out any of the words. But Harry attempted to read the article nonetheless.

**_Black Arrested for Murder_**

_Sirius Black, 21, was arrested late last night for the murder of thirteen people, one of which __was Peter Pettigrew, 21, a friend of Black. After his death, the only part a search team could find of Pettigrew was a finger since_…

…blotches of coffee…

…_The house in Godric's Hollow was blown to smithereens when it was found by Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, and Rubeus Hagrid late in the night_…

…another coffee stain…

…I_It is said that Black was in league with You-Know-Who before he was arrested since his brother is said to have been a part of You-Know-Who's crowd_…

…large splotch of coffee.

Harry couldn't make out anymore of the words.

He leaned back in the chair, the newspaper on his lap, as he sighed loudly. Harry knew there were more newspapers he could search through to possibly find more information, but he didn't have the energy anymore.

Glancing at the old _Daily Prophet_, Harry realized he hadn't found any vital information to answer his questions; questions that were only starting to grow in number. Now, he was just reassured that Sirius Black had been arrested in 1981 and put in prison.

Harry still didn't know why Black was after him. All he had found out was that a house in Godric's Hollow, a name that meant nothing to him, had been blown up and Black had killed a man named Peter Pettigrew. Of course, he now knew that Black had been a follower of Voldemort, and that he had a brother had been a follower as well.

As Harry sat there, checking his watch, which said that it was after nine pm, he realized that Snape still hadn't come back, but he didn't care. Even if it was the man's house, Harry didn't want him there.

Harry closed his eyes in an attempt to stop his thoughts from wondering, but all he succeeded in doing was falling asleep on the red chair.

**A/N:** I know it's odd that Snape wasn't wearing his robes, but you don't expect him to wear them all the time, do you? Well, maybe you do. But its not like he's wearing a t-shirt and jeans, so you can relax. But why did I not make him wear robes, you may ask? You know how in a certain childhood place, you acted a certain way, a way you would never act any where else, and then you go back and you almost feel you have to act that way again? It's kind of like that. Because Snape wouldn't wear robes there as a child, I figured he wouldn't continue to as an adult.

If you can figure out what word the numbers (448) stand for, then you can figure out what's going to happen to Harry in the next chapter!If you figure out the word, then tell me what your guess is in your review! I would like to see what you think!

And I won't be giving you the title to the next chapter since it will give away what's going to happen next.

**

* * *

**

Preview of Chapter 5—448:

Something, which will create even more loathing between Harry and Snape, will occur…


	5. Hit

**A/N: If you weren't sure what the numbers meant…well, you know now. By the way, I'm sorry if Snape seems a bit OOC. Also, I'm sorry this chapter wasn't up sooner! It's close to finals week for me and I have a lot going on, but it its up now! Enjoy!**

"Choose: The single clenched fist lifted and ready, or the open hand held out and waiting. Choose: For we meet by one or the other." -Carl Sandburg

**5**

**Hit**

Though the window on the opposite side of the room was mainly covered, Harry could tell that it was morning. The faintest bit of early morning light – a gentle white-blue – made its way into the room where the curtain couldn't cover.

Harry was slumped in the armchair, his neck aching slightly from the uncomfortable position of his head. He took off his glasses and rubbed at the sleep at the corners of his eyes. A yawn escaped him as he reached toward his lap for the old newspaper, but found that it was gone. Curious as to where Snape had taken it, he went downstairs to find the man sitting on the couch, reading a book, now back in his Muggle clothes.

"Where's the newspaper I was looking at?" Harry asked. Without saying anything or looking away from his book, Snape pointed to the cocktail table. Upon picking it up, the words 'Godric's Hollow' came into view. "Did you know anyone that lived in Godric's Hollow?" Immediately after asking, Harry realized he had no idea why he had.

"No," replied Snape, his eyes never leaving the book before him.

Harry took a seat in one of the armchairs facing the couch. He scanned the paper again, not looking for anything in particular. He then remembered that the newspaper from yesterday had said that Black was thirty-four years old.

Harry looked over the top of the newspaper at Snape, who was still reading. How old was Snape? He couldn't be too old. But Snape, whose face showed signs of strain and fatigue, didn't look thirty-four either. But Harry would never ask; that was just a rude question, he knew that.

Suddenly, as if he knew he was being watched, Snape posed the question, "Is there something you need, Potter?"

"Err…no," Harry mumbled, as he glanced back at the paper. '_Was in league with You-Know-Who.' _ "Hmm…" Harry said, as he thought things over. But he was rudely interrupted.

"_What_, Potter?" asked Snape irritably.

Harry thought of saying nothing and going back to his room (he knew that was the wise choice), but he had a lot of questions, and Snape could have some answers.

"It says here that Black was in league with Vol—You-Know-Who," explained Harry. The name made Snape look up from his book, which was closed and laid on the cocktail table.

"Wouldn't know," Snape said unemotionally as he stood.

"You have tons of newspapers, have you ever found anything on Black?"

"No, nothing on Black."

Harry stood up, incredulous and riled. "Absolutely _nothing?_"

"I said nothing, Potter!" Snape exclaimed as he turned to glare at Harry with dark, shrewd eyes.

Harry wasn't taken aback. "I just want to find information on the man who's trying to _kill me!_" Harry stared defiantly back at Snape.

"Well, you're not getting any information from me."

"If you know something, tell me!"

"I don't know anything."

What Snape said would have been funny and Harry would have been able to make a fantastic retort, had he not wanted more information. Snape grabbed the newspaper out of Harry's hands and turned to make for the stairs. He didn't get far.

"Give me the newspaper!" Harry insisted, following Snape.

Snape turned to him. "Have you forgotten that it's _my_ newspaper? And that this is _my_ house? And whatever is in _my _house belongs to _me?_" They were now mere inches from each other. Snape lowered his voice to a chilling whisper, "You're just like your father, Potter: _Insolent and arrogant_."

At first, Harry didn't know what had taken control of him, but in the minor seconds before and after (when he would have time to think about it), he realized it was the undying and ever-growing hate of the man before him, it was Snape's successive taunts, tormenting mind-games, and disdain for his father that had, without Harry really knowing, lodged themselves beneath his skin, only to open now as a fresh wound, and it was the stress of being hunted down by Black, that had made him do it. His right hand, in a fist, had collided with the left side of Snape's face. But Snape was a lot older and a lot bigger than him, and Harry knew he hadn't done any damage. Snape only took a step back as he was being hit.

As Harry brought his fist away, he came to terms with what he had just done. Starting in the pit of his stomach, a nervous, uneasy feeling began to overwhelm him. His face was growing hot from panic. He was sure that Snape was going to take out his wand and curse him. He couldn't believe he had left his wand on his bedside table upstairs.

Harry saw that Snape's eyes were practically glowing with anger. His pale face had turned a tint of red. In the dim lighting, with shadows crossing his face, Snape looked intimidating and sinister. Not that he ever stopped looking that way.

Harry had been looking so intently at Snape's cold glare that he didn't see the man's large fist coming. But he sure as hell felt it. An immense force hit him brutally and relentlessly on the left side of his face. No thoughts seemed to be passing through Harry's mind as he saw the dim sitting room pass him by in a blur.

The force knocked Harry onto unsure footing and he fell sideways onto the floor. He grabbed his jaw in pain and touched his bottom lip, realizing that he was bleeding.

Looking up from the floor, Harry saw that Snape's chest was noticeably heaving. But for some reason that Harry couldn't comprehend, Snape didn't look angry, but distressed.

"Potter, I…" But Snape's voice trailed off into nothing.

Without saying a word, Harry got up and backed away slowly from Snape, in utter shock and slight embarrassment, to the stairs. Once he got to the bottom of the steps, Harry ran up them to his room and closed the door.

Harry pressed his back against the door, hardly able to comprehend what had just happened. The shock of Snape hitting him like a Muggle was manifested as wide eyes and quick breathing, and he was furious at himself for having forgotten his wand.

His lip felt tight and he knew it had swelled. Harry touched it and a shiver ran down his spine. He looked at the tip of his fingers, which only had dried blood on it. At least his lip had stopped bleeding.

There was a knock on the door. As Harry moved away to stare at the door, anger rose inside of him, knowing that Snape was on the other side. He wrenched it open to see his professor standing there with a small vial in his right hand.

"Potter, I…this will get rid of the swelling," Snape muttered, avoiding his eyes, as he opened his hand to show the vial. Harry knew Snape had been about to apologize, but had instead decided to skip the unnecessary – that was probably what Snape felt it was anyway.

Harry glared at Snape. In a haughty voice, asked, "What—no apology?"

Snape's eyes flashed up to him and he regained his usual straight posture. "Not for an arrogant little bastard like you." Exasperation was apparent in his voice. Harry heard glass hitting the floor, and realized that Snape had dropped the small vial. Luckily, it hadn't shattered on the wood. Snape turned on his heel and walked away.

Harry picked up the vial; it took all his self-control to not throw it against the wall. Instead, he slammed the door, making the lamp on the bedside table fall to the floor.

"Bloody hell!" Harry cursed under his breath. Slowly but surely, he picked up the lamp.

He looked at the small, glass vial, which fit in his clenched fist. The liquid was a dark, putrid purple and as he uncorked the vial, smoke was released into the air. Harry gulped down the vicious liquid. After a couple of minutes, the throbbing pain was gone. Harry touched his lip again; it wasn't swollen anymore to his relief. Only the cut in his lip remained.

He grabbed his wand from his bedside table and put it in his trouser pocket, vowing to never let it leave his person. If Snape, or anyone, was going to curse him, he'd be ready.

Harry heard a hooting. He looked to the window at his right to see the tawny Weasley owl, Errol, carrying a letter. Harry's mouth formed into a weak smile at the sight of the bird. He knew the letter was from Ron.

_Harry,_

_I hope you're all right. My dad didn't tell me where you're staying, only that you're safe. I wish you could stay at the Burrow, but my dad said Dumbledore decided against it, something about it not being safe enough. Anyway, Hermione and Neville are coming to stay after we get back from Egypt, but it won't be the same without you. My dad also told me that I couldn't send you too many letters just in case Black is watching the post. But don't worry; I'm sure the Ministry of Magic will catch him. Stay safe, mate._

_Ron_

Folding the letter, he put it back in his trunk, taking out a fresh piece and his white quill. Harry wrote the letter on the top of his trunk.

_Ron,_

_I'm safe. I'd tell you where I'm staying, but Dumbledore gave me rules and I want to attempt to follow them. Unfortunately, one of them is that I can't go outside at any time, for any reason. So I won't be practicing for Quidditch any time soon. I'll tell you where I'm staying when I see you at school, although right now, that seems years from now. Tell Hermione and your family that I say hi. Have fun in Egypt! You're confined friend,_

_Harry_

Errol was flying around the room. It was only when Harry grabbed in the air for the bird did he land on Harry's bed. The letter was tied and Errol flew off out the open window.

The view outside the window wasn't much to look at. The house next to Snape's was unoccupied. The sides of the house were watermarked and brown and the windows were cracked open. The sky outside was blue and the sun was out, however it seemed to be shining everywhere but Spinner's End.

**A/N:** Hmm…Why was Snape about to apologize? My reason is that because Snape's father used to hit him, it reminded him too much of those times, and he doesn't want to be like his father, so he felt horrible and wanted to say he was sorry. But he obviously doesn't want to say sorry to the son of a man who used to torment him. But I'm curious: did you feel that Snape was out of character? Do you think he would have reacted that way? Did you feel that Harry was out of character? Please let me know! Thanks!

**

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Preview of Chapter 6—Fool:

A new curse, another fight, and an absolutely horrible beginning to Harry's birthday…


	6. Fool

"Any fool can criticize, condemn and complain and most fools do."

-Benjamin Franklin

**6**

**Fool**

Three days had passed, making it the 20th of July – Harry would know since he was waiting impatiently for the day he could leave. Nothing interesting had occurred. Dumbledore hadn't come like he said he would. Snape hadn't left the house, although, fortunately, he had stayed in his room. In fact, over the past seventy-two hours, Harry and Snape had barely seen or spoken to each other. Not that either was complaining, of course. Harry found it a relief that he hadn't seen the man in a while; it was akin to going on holiday while being confined.

However, there were more important things to deal with than a grumpy, spiteful man…like a murderous, malicious man. With Black on the loose, Harry thought it a good idea to practice some spells with the book Hermione had given to him a while back. But to Harry's disappointment, he remembered he couldn't use his wand. He thought of using a stick, but knew he couldn't go outside.

_I have to live with Snape. I can't even tell anyone I'm here. Dumbledore hasn't come to see how I'm doing. And I can't even go outside to get a bloody STICK!_

Harry turned to his open window when he heard something hit the peeling, wooden frame. On the floor was a slightly angular but otherwise straight old branch, which had flown into the room. Well, getting upset certainly came in handy sometimes. He grabbed the book from his trunk and the stick, and went down the stairs carefully, so they didn't creak.

Harry stood in the middle of the sitting room, practicing spells he had already learned and even those he hadn't. Of course, Harry, in actuality, didn't know how well he was doing since the spells weren't being created, but if he knew how to do the spells, he figured they could be useful in time.

"_Ennervate!_" Harry pointed the stick at one of the armchairs, but nothing happened. He repeated it several times before he knew the spell and was satisfied. Harry flipped through a couple of pages until he came to a spell he had never heard of before: the Extinguishing Spell. That spell was also practiced for a while, before Harry moved onto the next spell: the Stunning Spell.

"_Stupefy!_" Harry said as he pointed the stick at the armchair.

"_What are you doing?_" called Snape from the stairs.

Harry straightened up at his remark, turning to the man, stick still in hand. "I was…practicing."

"I would have guessed that by now, you would know that you aren't allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts," Snape mentioned coldly. "If you get a warning or are expelled, that is not my problem."

"I'm not using my wand. I'm using—"

"A stick? Did you go outside?"

"No," Harry stated.

"Potter, I know you're lying. I don't have sticks lying around my house."

"I didn't go outside!"

"Care to explain then?"

"Fine. I was in my room, and I wanted to use something else since I know I can't use my wand," clarified Harry. Snape stood there, looking at him disbelievingly. "And I thought of using a stick, so it sort of…came in through the open window."

There was a slight pause before Snape reasoned, "I don't suggest practicing anymore. Even though you're not using your wand, you could still provoke some magic to occur. And I don't want to get blamed for your foolishness."

Snape stepped down the remaining stairs and entered the kitchen. Harry watched him go, and then looked at the crooked stick in his hands, before breaking it clean in half with a sharp crack. He sat down on the worn-out couch and began to look through the book in the dim light. He first turned to the table of contents. Going down the list, each spell sounded progressively more complicated. The last being: _Avada Kedavra_. He had never heard of that spell before and had no clue as to what it did, but it interested him greatly. Seeing as it was the final one on the list, it must be severely arduous to perform.

While sitting on the couch, Harry debated whether or not to go ask Snape. He was still rather exasperated by the man; as he knew Snape was with him. It was about twenty minutes before he actually got up, and even then it was rather reluctantly. But Harry entered the kitchen, carrying the closed book, to see Snape sitting in his usual seat, reading. He stood next to the chair opposite Snape.

"Snape?" There was no answer, just dead silence as he read his book, but Harry knew why. "_Professor_ Snape?"

"What, Potter?" Snape asked annoyed, his eyes still on the page.

"What is…" Harry thought of simply turning and leaving, but asked, "What is Avada Kedavra?" He noticed Snape's eyes weren't moving anymore. They were just staring at one spot on the page.

Snape replied slowly, "The Killing Curse."

"_The_ Killing Curse?"

"That's what I said."

"Is that…is that the spell Voldemort used to…to kill my parents?"

Another long pause. The only thing Harry heard was the gurgling of pipes. Snape's eyes weren't moving, though he did wince slightly at the name, and Harry immediately knew what the answer was.

"Yes."

--

Harry was having trouble falling asleep. His mind was so focused on the awake world and the things going on around him that it couldn't seem to take a short break. But after two hours of tossing and turning, and many pointless yawns, Harry drifted off…

_Black robes swished quickly as two people ran. Flashes of color shown before Harry's very eyes. There was another swishing of a cloak as someone else appeared, but Harry couldn't see his face. There was a bright flash, and he then heard the piercing sound of a woman screaming…_

"Potter!"

Harry's eyes flashed open. He wiped away cold sweat from his forehead and chin before realizing that there was someone else in the room. Snape was standing at the edge of his bed as he held his wand, light illuminating from the tip of it.

"What—what happened?" Harry asked, sitting up, wondering why the man was in his room. He grabbed his glasses from the side table and slowly put them on.

"You were screaming," Snape voiced. He moved to light the candle that was on top of the dresser. Harry turned away slightly when more light filled the room since he had been so accustomed to the darkness. "I thought someone was attacking you."

"And what were you going to do? Defend me?" Harry laughed. "I can defend myself, thanks." He got out of bed, quickly glancing at his side table to make sure his wand was there.

"You can't defend yourself in your sleep, Potter," retorted Snape. Harry saw his expression take on a smirk. "It would be all too easy to kill you in your sleep, especially with you screaming. No one would even hear it."

"Don't get any ideas," Harry remarked as he gave Snape a look. "Besides, Dumbledore would know if you did. He knows how you hate me."

"I presume he does…after you told him."

"He'd know anyway."

"Oh? How do you figure that?"

"Because of you and my father and what happened."

"How do you know what happened?" Snape asked quickly.

After a couple seconds, Harry groaned, "I don't."

"Good, then let's keep it that way." Snape turned to leave.

"What happened? What did he do?" Harry inquired, even though he knew Snape would never tell. He desperately wanted to know. He had sought the information ever since his first year when he figured out that something between his father and Snape had occurred.

"You don't need to know."

"I'm not my father."

Without turning, Snape laughed. "Don't be a fool," he said, flicking his wand in the direction of the door, which opened. Snape turned to him. "You may be a Slytherin, but you are still your father's son."

Harry glared at Snape. The words itself weren't an insult, but coming from Snape, they seemed to take on more malicious intentions. Snape turned on his heel. The door closed behind him.

Harry looked at his watch; it was close to five am. He felt deprived of sleep lately, and knew he should be getting back into bed. But he knew that if he wanted to get more sleep, he should wash away the sweat that still lingered.

Quickly, he made for the lavatory and turned on the tap. The sound of running water – of the cool, clear liquid crashing against the porcelain and spinning down the drain – was somehow soothing to Harry. He cupped his hands and bent over the sink. The water was bitter cold, but he didn't care.

Harry stared in the mirror above the sink, gazing at his dripping face in the reflection. It had been a long time since Harry had really looked at himself in the mirror. He noticed that his eyes seemed greener even with the weary look that they seemed to carry. His hair was a bit longer, but not considerably, and even messier if that was possible. Harry also noticed that he was taller, but he knew he still wasn't as tall as Draco or Ron. Maybe in time, he would be.

He cleaned his face once more and left the room. As he got back into bed, Harry couldn't help but think about the dream he had had earlier. The screams of the woman had sunk into his memory so much that he couldn't go back to sleep and instead watched Hedwig sleeping.

--

Eleven days later – July 31st – and Harry was still there. Dumbledore had yet to show up to inform him he would be staying elsewhere. Harry was starting to sulk and was aggravated that he was still at Snape's, unwillingly.

Harry woke up early that Sunday morning and looked expectantly at the foot of his bed. His smile quickly vanished when he saw nothing but the wooden floor. There were no presents. Then he remembered how Dumbledore had prohibited the arrival of letters. That definitely included parcels as well. Harry figured that if someone saw a whole pack of owls approaching Snape's it would most certainly look suspicious.

Groaning, Harry got out of bed and sleepily staggered his way down to the kitchen. Snape wasn't there, which meant he was still in his room. Opening the refrigerator, Harry saw that it was almost completely empty. There wasn't any cereal or eggs, so he got out some bread, layered on some mayonnaise from a nearly empty jar, and put on a couple slices of cheese and turkey.

_Well, it's definitely not a Hogwarts feast_, Harry thought bitterly.

The sandwich was soon gone and Harry went into the sitting room. He lay down on the couch, not caring to go back upstairs. He faced the wall covered in books, which was opposite the stairs. The place where he knew the emergency chamber was concealed.

Harry sighed. _Not one bloody letter._

As he lie down in the dim sitting room, Harry thought of all the years he had lived with the Dursley's before knowing that he was a wizard. How they had never acknowledged his birthday. All those years he had been ignored. _Ruddy Muggles._ He had finally made friends at Hogwarts, but now it seemed he had gone back to the beginning.

"Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday to—"

There was a loud creak from the stairs.

Harry twisted his head to see Snape walking down. He turned back to stare at the wall of books.

From on the couch, he heard Snape putting plates on the table, so he got up and went into the kitchen, hoping he would get something more decent to eat. Still sulking, he sat down to a slightly better breakfast than the one he had made. Despite that, Harry's food went pretty much uneaten. He poked and prodded at it, but couldn't seem to pick it up and put it in his mouth. Sure, he was hungry, but he was more preoccupied with the fact that it was the worst birthday he had ever had.

"Upset that you're not being showered with gifts from your family?" Snape asked callously. There was a hint of resentment in his voice and his face showed slight anger.

Harry looked up from his plate. " 'Showered in gifts from my family?'" he asked, laughing slightly at the ridiculousness of it. Of course, Snape didn't know his situation and what he had been through or what his childhood was like.

"The only time I've gotten a gift from a family member was when I was one, and that was from my parents," Harry snapped, irate, as he looked at Snape. "My aunt, uncle, and cousin have _never_ given me presents _ever_. So don't you dare think I'm upset because I'm not getting gifts!"

Harry immediately got up from his seat and walked away, going upstairs.

He took a guess as to why Snape would think he was showered with gifts: his father. He didn't know when his father's birthday was because he had never been told, but he supposed his father had been talking about his gifts during school, and Snape had most likely overheard.

--

Midmorning it began to rain heavily. Harry opened the window in his room to let in the refreshing cool air and to hear the mildly comforting sound of the water hitting the windowsill.

Harry's birthday went so slowly that he was, on countless occasions, checking his watch to make sure the day would end. This was by far worse than any birthday he had ever experienced with the Dursley's. At least at the Dursley's he had been able to go outside into the fresh air and had someone to acknowledge his presence, however unpleasant it had been.

After polishing his broom and doing nothing for a long time, Harry decided to make a calendar so that he would be able to mark off the days until he would be leaving this wretched place and going to Hogwarts. Of course, Dumbledore still hadn't come to tell him when he would be leaving Snape's. All he could do was hope that it was soon.

He took out parchment and began to write the days of the week after first creating a table to fit the month of August. He crossed off his birthday and stuck it to the wall above his bedside table with some spell-o-tape he still had from Draco a long while back.

Hours past, and as Harry lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, he could tell that the day was ending. Through the window he could see purples and pinks coloring the sky, and in the distant horizon a dark mass of midnight blue.

An unexpected knock at the door made Harry jump.

**Preview of Chapter 7—Lupin's Interview: **

Dumbledore finally arrives at the end of Harry's birthday, but not with any good news, and Harry meets his new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor…


	7. Lupin's Interview

**A/N:** This is an exceptionally long chapter!! So you might want to get something to drink or some popcorn first. You also might want to go to the bathroom/toilet, too. Just kidding, well not really. It is pretty long. It was 8 pages on Microsoft Word. Anyway, enjoy this really long chapter!

"Though it be honest, it is never good to bring bad news."

-William Shakespeare

**7**

**Lupin's Interview**

An unexpected knock at the door made Harry jump.

"What do you want?" Harry asked unpleasantly, as he moved to sit cross-legged on his bed.

The door opened slowly but gracefully to a man in half-moon spectacles. Dumbledore had a slight smile on his face. Harry immediately got up from his bed, courteously, when he saw his headmaster.

"Professor," Harry stammered. "I didn't realize it was you."

"Not to worry," replied Dumbledore, walking further into the room. "I think you will be pleased with what I've brought you." From his pocket, Dumbledore took out boxes the size of coins and placed them on Harry's bed. With a tap from his wand, the small boxes grew until they were a normal size. "I'll leave you with your presents. I'm sure you've been wanting them."

"Thank you," Harry stated with a small smile. Dumbledore gave Harry a slight nod before turning to leave. "Err, Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"You told me when I arrived here that I'd be here for about two or three weeks. Two weeks have already passed. How much longer do I have stay here, sir? Can't I go live somewhere else that's just as safe? You said you were making arrangements," Harry said, trying not to be insistent.

Dumbledore turned to face him and took a couple steps nearer to Harry. "I have been trying to find somewhere that would be suitable for you, somewhere Black wouldn't trod, but there seems to be nowhere you can go. For that, I'm sorry," Dumbledore told him. "I have been busy making sure that Hogwarts is safe in September for you and the other students, but I haven't forgotten you, Harry. I promise you, I will keep looking, but I cannot guarantee you that I will find a place. I will do my best."

Harry nodded grimly, knowing that he'd have to stay at Snape's even longer, but till when, he didn't know. Dumbledore nodded back and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. "Enjoy your presents, Harry. Happy Birthday." And with that, he left the room, hardly making a sound as he did.

Immediately after Dumbledore was gone, Harry reached over and ripped off the wrappings to the present closest to him. A large smile found its way onto Harry's face – the first one in a long time. He recognized the big, loopy handwriting as Ron's.

_Harry,_

Happy Birthday! I wish I could have written to you sooner to take mind off Black and you're not being able to leave wherever you are. But since I can't, I thought I'd get you something that can take your mind off your problems a bit. Always cheered me up anyway. I also got you something from Egypt. I hope you like it! See you,

Ron

As he placed the letter on his bed, he realized that there was another piece of parchment behind Ron's. He guessed that the curly handwriting was Mrs. Weasley's.

_Harry, dear,_

Arthur and I wanted to wish you a Happy 13th birthday. Arthur told me where you were staying (though I haven't told Ron or the others), and I'm sorry, dear. I know you would rather be with your friends. Tell Professor Snape that we'll be at Diagon Alley on August 29th. I hope you can make it. Once again, Happy Birthday!

Mrs. Weasley and family

After placing the parchment down, a sweet smell reached Harry's nose as he grabbed the rectangular box. He pulled off the lid to see dozens of different kinds of candies. Some were sweets he already knew of, but others looked to be from Egypt. He took a Chocolate Frog from the box and ate it, the wonderful, sweet taste filling his mouth.

Among the assortment of candy was something shiny. Harry picked the object up with care. It was a miniature golden statue of the Sphinx in Egypt. He genuinely liked the statue; looking at it made him feel as if he could be with the Weasley's, far away from Spinner's End. He set it down on his bedside table before moving onto the next gift.

_Harry,_

My father went to the Minister of Magic about you being taken away, but the Minister said there was nothing he could do now since you're already gone. I would've told you sooner, but we got a letter from Dumbledore saying that we couldn't send you any letters or we'd be "putting your life at risk." Anyway, Happy Birthday, wherever you are.

Draco

Harry tossed the letter aside. He knew Draco wanted him to write where he was staying, but he knew his best friend would just laugh. He unwrapped the small box that was in some sort of silvery wrapping, which shone brightly in the lamplight. A small, old fashioned-looking, gold key was what stared back at him mysteriously.

Underneath it was a piece of folded parchment, which said: _This is a key that can open almost all locked doors. I'm not going to say it can open all doors because it can't break through the complicated locking spells (I happen to know because I have one as well), but it's still very useful. Thought it might be handy, considering your situation. Draco_

Harry took out the gold key, looking at it curiously. The top, where Harry's fingers currently resided, was in the shape of a curvy oval. The end had three parts that jut out equally. Harry guessed that those three parts transformed to accommodate the lock of a door. So this simple, little key could open practically any door. A small smirk appeared on his face. This would definitely come in handy. He placed it beside his new Sphinx, and then turned to the next gift.

_Harry,_

Happy Birthday! I'm sorry you're stuck somewhere you don't want to be. Ron told me and he said that you weren't happy about it. I wish you could be staying with us at the Burrow later this summer, but that seems unlikely. Anyway, France is beautiful and while I was walking in a wizard part of France, I came across a man selling this powder that would allow you to see it! There's enough for three times. You'll see what I mean. Just follow the directions when you do. Have a great birthday!

Hermione

Inside the medium-sized blue box was a small glass jar, which said "Illusion-Making Powder – France" on the light green lid, as well as on the paper wrapped around the jar. On the opposite side were directions.

_1. Take a handful of the powder in one hand._

2. Sprinkle the powder around you. It will disappear after a couple of seconds.

3. Close your eyes.

4. Count to five.

5. Relax.

Remember: The Illusion-Making Powder lasts half of an hour. Make sure you have the time before doing it! Once you go in, you won't leave until a half an hour is over. But when your times up, you won't want to leave!

Before moving onto the last present, Harry put the jar back in the box and then carefully put it in his trunk. He would certainly be using that as soon as he could. He couldn't wait. However the last box still lay on his bed and he grabbed it without further ado.

It was a plain box with a green bow at the top. Inside was a cake with green icing that said "Harry!" and a stick figure underneath that was probably supposed to be him. The figure was made of green icing with brown icing as the hair and circular glasses. When he saw it, he grinned, a laugh escaping him since he knew it was from Hagrid. Considering Hagrid usually made food rock hard, he would be sure to eat it carefully, but this time the cake looked delicious.

Harry placed the last present down with a smile. Maybe this day hadn't been a complete waste after all. He looked at his bed to see that only one thing remained: a single envelope. He turned it over to see the Hogwarts crest pressed into red wax.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

On certain weekends, third years have the privilege of visiting the village of Hogsmeade located outside Hogwarts. Give the enclosed permission slip to a parent or guardian to sign. Your list of books should arrive later in the summer. Thank you. Sincerely,

Professor Minerva McGonagall

Very suddenly, his birthday had once again taken a wrong turn. He wouldn't be able to go to Hogsmeade; he had already left the Dursley's and wouldn't be going back until next summer and though he was staying with Snape, his Potions master wasn't his real guardian.

Harry had gone to Hogsmeade at the end of his second year, because of the Marauder's Map and had had a great time, but he wished he could go with everyone else and not have to sneak around. That was the story of Harry's life, it seemed. Harry ripped the parchment in half and then again and again until he was satisfied. He let the pieces fall to the floor.

He wondered if Dumbledore was still downstairs talking to Snape, so he opened the door and crept down the hall. As he did, he heard their voices emanating from the sitting room.

He recognized Dumbledore's voice, but he was talking too quietly to make out the words. Amidst all the murmurs, Harry heard Dumbledore say, "August 3rd" and then he could hear Snape whispering. Their footsteps could be heard walking away toward the front door.

Going back to his room, he grabbed another candy from the box Ron had given him. Harry wondered what would be happening August 3rd, which was only three days from then. But as he continued to think about it, it didn't have any importance to him, so he went back to looking at his newly opened presents.

"You have to stay in your room tonight," Snape stated as he sat down in one of the armchairs, holding a book. Harry was sitting on the part of the couch furthest from Snape as he read a book on Quidditch moves.

It was the afternoon of August 3rd as they sat in the dusky sitting room. Harry coughed as he inhaled some dust. "Why?"

"You seem to think that you deserve to know everything, Potter," responded Snape, looking up from his book. "Just stay in your room."

_That's not bloody likely._

Hours later, Harry was sitting on his bed, reading a book on the Animagi process. As he continued to read, he heard movement down in the sitting room. Harry, placing the book upside down, got up and opened the door to hear voices stealing their way upstairs.

Knowing that he wasn't supposed to go down, Harry thought it was time to take out his Invisibility Cloak. The flowing fabric gently lay over Harry as he walked out of the room and down the hall, trying his best not to make a sound. He went halfway down the stairs as he listened to the conversation.

"Would you be able to handle so many classes?" Harry recognized the familiar voice of Dumbledore.

"Yes, Professor," replied the unknown man. Guessing from the sound of his voice, Harry presumed the man wasn't that old, probably in his twenties or thirties.

"What about the students? Do you think you can manage to, at times, control the students should they get out of hand?"

"I think so, Professor," said the man. "I think that if the situation were to come up that I would be able to manage the task of getting them to calm down and listen to me. Generally, teenagers settle down after they realize you're not doing anything and are waiting for them. I don't see any time where I would have to raise my voice to a student, but if things were to get really out of hand, I wouldn't be afraid to, if that's what you mean."

There was a pause where Harry guessed Dumbledore was nodding. "You can manage making lessons appropriate for the different ages?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Good, good." Dumbledore asked more questions regarding the Defense Against the Dark Arts subject, ill-behaved students, and other teacher-related issues. The interview-style questioning continued for over ten minutes until Dumbledore paused, apparently thinking very deeply about the man. "Well, I can see that you would be very beneficial addition to my staff. Welcome to Hogwarts, _Professor Lupin_."

"Thank you, sir," Lupin replied. Still beneath the cloak, Harry took another step down the stairs slowly, ensuring it didn't creak.

"But, Professor. Surely you can't allow _him_ to be a professor," Snape protested. "What about his…_condition_?"

"_That_ will be taken care of," emphasized Dumbledore calmly.

As Harry listened, he took yet another step forward. This step allowed him to see the room without having to strain his neck. The man named Lupin was sitting on one of the armchairs while Dumbledore sat on the couch; he could see both their profiles. Snape, meanwhile, was standing off to the side near the wall of books with his arms folded across his chest.

"I will have something arranged in due time," Dumbledore continued. Lupin nodded at his response.

"Getting back to the matter at hand: Remus, you will be teaching all years, so you must teach according to their level and age. I'm sure you're able to handle that. You'll be meeting Minerva a week before the first day of school where she will go over a few more details and give you your teaching schedule," Dumbledore clarified with an air of authority.

"Sounds fine, Professor," muttered Lupin, giving Dumbledore a small smile and nod.

Harry took another step down the stairs, not realizing it to be the third to last, and it creaked loudly. He froze but looked up to see both Snape and Lupin turn to the stairs.

Snape walked forward, and Harry knew that he was probably about to go upstairs to check on him. Harry moved his leg to step back on the stair behind him and pulled himself up without making a sound.

"I'll think I'll go check on him to make sure he's not up to no good," Snape mentioned to Dumbledore. Harry was beginning to form a plan inside his head that if Snape started toward the stairs he would run up them as fast and quietly as possible into the lavatory.

"Who's upstairs?" asked Lupin curiously.

Dumbledore didn't seem to hear Lupin, but instead turned to Snape. "Leave him be, Severus. He's had a rough year and I don't think they'll be getting any easier." Dumbledore added, "Some tea would be nice, if you don't mind."

"I don't have any, I'm afraid." Snape looked to the stairs, but then walked closer to the couch.

"Not a problem," stated Dumbledore before conjuring three bags of Earl Gray tea. Snape grabbed the small bags from the cocktail table and went to the kitchen. When he was completely out of sight, Dumbledore said, "Harry, you can come down now."

Harry's eyes widened at being addressed so loosely when he had been hiding, but he should have known that Dumbledore would realize he was there. He walked down the rest of the stairs and took off the cloak, gathering it into a ball and leaving it near the foot of the stairs.

Lupin stood up, looking at him with wide eyes. "He looks just like James."

"You knew my father?" Harry asked eagerly, walking toward the man.

"Yes, ah, we were friends," Lupin said as he surveyed Harry.

Now that he was closer, Harry saw that Lupin's light brown hair had strands of gray. His face looked worn-out and haggard, as did his cloak, which seemed to have been black but was now gray from overuse. As Harry looked intently at the man's face, it dawned upon him that he had seen this man before. He was in some of the pictures in Harry's red photo album.

It was only when Dumbledore began to talk, did Harry realize that his headmaster was standing beside him. "Harry, meet your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," he announced. "This is Professor Lupin."

"Nice to meet you, Professor," Harry said with a smile as he moved forward to shake Lupin's already outstretched arm.

"And you, Harry," stated Professor Lupin contentedly.

Harry heard footsteps coming from the kitchen and he turned to see Snape carrying two steaming mugs. He broke the handshake with his new professor when he saw the harsh look on Snape's face. "I thought I told you to stay in your room," Snape demanded sternly, placing the mugs on the cocktail table.

"But—" Harry began.

"He was just curious," Lupin interjected.

Snape turned his attention to Lupin. "Don't defend him just because he looks like his father."

"You know I—" started Lupin.

"Severus, Remus, this is not a time for dispute," stated Dumbledore. As always he never raised his voice, but was able to stop the professors from talking even though it was just above a whisper. Dumbledore walked gracefully back to the couch and sat down, taking a sip of tea.

"Potter, get Professor Lupin his cup of tea from the kitchen," commanded Snape, giving Harry a dark look, which he returned.

"Yes, _Professor_," said Harry through clenched teeth as he glared at Snape. He could have sworn he saw Lupin smile, but it was quickly gone. As Harry walked away to retrieve the tea, he saw Snape whisper to Dumbledore as he motioned to Lupin, who was now sitting down in an armchair. Harry grabbed the hot mug from the counter and walked back into the sitting room to give Lupin his cup of tea.

Since Snape was still talking to Dumbledore, Harry sat down in the armchair next to Lupin, who asked, "Harry, why are you staying here with Professor Snape?"

"Sirius Black is on the loose and apparently after me."

"Well, that I know. I just didn't think Professor Dumbledore would place you with someone like him," Lupin disclosed, nodding his head in the direction of Snape.

"Tell me about it. Snape's the last person I would want to stay with."

There was a moments pause as Lupin seemed to be thinking about something. "I really can't believe Black escaped from Azkaban," Lupin mumbled, more to himself.

"Why is it such a big deal, Professor? Muggles escape their prisons all the time."

"This is different. Azkaban is guarded by Dementors."

"Dementors?" Harry asked, turning in his seat to face his Professor.

"Dementors are foul and unpleasant creatures. There's only one reason why the Dementors guard Azkaban and not Gringotts or Hogwarts: they suck the life out of everything around them, feeding on positive emotions," explained Lupin. "Even worse, they force the people around them to relive their worst memories."

"So they want the prisoners to relive their worst memories because of what they did," Harry stated, almost asking.

"Sort of, but when around the Dementors, a person looses the ability to perform magic after time, so they can't leave," continued Lupin. He paused for a second, looking up at Dumbledore, who was listening to Snape. "What puzzles me the most is how Black could've escaped when he had been there for so long. Magic would've been nearly impossible for him to use."

"Maybe he found a way to get out without magic, Professor. There's got to be another way. He found the loophole."

"I suppose he must have."

Lupin and Harry turned to see that Dumbledore and Snape were still having their discussion as they stood behind the couch. Snape looked upset and Harry could see from his mouth that he was talking fast. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was just standing there, looking at the man before him. It was a wonder that Harry couldn't hear Snape talking, especially since he looked like he was at the point of yelling.

At last, Snape stopped speaking and turned to see that both Harry and Lupin were watching him. Dumbledore said something to Snape and then spoke so that they all could hear him. "I'm late for a meeting with the Minister, so I must be on my way. Remus, you're meeting is on the twenty-fifth. Severus, it will be taken care of. And, Harry, I promise to keep looking." With a nod to them all, he Disapparated.

"Leave, Lupin," Snape ordered, coldly and forcibly.

"There's no need to be rude, Snape," scolded Lupin. He looked at Harry, though was still talking to Snape. "I haven't seen Harry since he was a baby."

"You'll see him at Hogwarts in a month. Now, leave."

"I'll ask for partolling duty near Gryffindor Tower," Lupin said.

Harry watched as a smirk formed on Snape's face. "Err…I don't live in Gryffindor Tower, Professor."

"You're not a Gryffindor?" asked Lupin, his eyes narrowing at the thought. Lupin turned to Snape and saw the smirk, which had grown tremendously. He then turned suddenly back to Harry. "You're a Slytherin?"

Harry didn't nod or say anything because Lupin seemed angry with him. Snape spoke, "Funny, isn't it? Never thought Potter's son would be a Slytherin. But it's not completely surprising, considering how Potter used to act."

"How did he act?" asked Harry, curious.

"He was a good man. Never forget that," urged Lupin surprisingly calmly, looking at him again.

A fake laugh passed through Snape's lips. "Ha! You think he was a good man?"

"I _know_ he was a good man," retorted Lupin, standing up. Harry did so, too. "James played pranks in school. That was it. Let it go, Snape. That was a long time ago."

"Pranks? He didn't just play pranks, Lupin. Or maybe you don't remember," Snape sneered. But then he paused, watching Lupin's narrowed and confused eyes, and seemed to remember something. "Or…maybe they never told you."

"James told me about his pranks, though I never liked them."

"I'm not talking about one of his stupid pranks!" exclaimed Snape, walking toward Lupin. Harry took a couple of steps back as he watched the quarrel continue.

"Then what _are_ you talking about?" asked Lupin with annoyance and curiousity.

Harry had been quietly observing the conversation, not making a single sound. He was hoping that amidst all the arguing, Snape would give atleast a clue as to what had happened all those years ago. But then Snape turned to him as if seeing him for the first time.

"Not here. It's not something _he_ should hear," noted Snape, refering to Harry.

"I see," said Lupin. "Tell me in a month, then."

"You should know now," drawled Snape. He looked at a clock that stood on top of a pile of books, which Harry hadn't noticed before. It was ten minutes until ten o'clock pm. "With Black on the loose, it'll be easier to hear."

"You mean now?" asked Lupin, though Snape didn't reply or nod, he seemed to understand that it did. "Fine. Hog's Head. In ten minutes."

"Good. I'll be there," finished Snape.

Harry heard a creak from the stairs and turned toward it, but saw nothing.

Lupin turned to Harry. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, Harry. Oh, and I know it passed, but happy birthday."

"Thanks," Harry replied with a smile. Lupin nodded and then Disapparated not a second afterwards. Immediately after, Harry walked toward the stairs as he said with uninterest, "You're leaving. I heard. Bye." He heard a small "pop" and knew that Snape had Disapparated as well. He turned around and saw the clock on the wall: 9:53.

"Thank Merlin," Harry whispered to himself as he walked upstairs, forgetting his Invisibility Cloak that still lay curled on the floor.

He was disappointed that he couldn't follow Snape and Lupin to finally hear what had happened all those years ago at Hogwarts. Instead, he sat on his bed and began to read the Animagus book he had left overturned on his blanket before his curiousity had taken over.

**A/N:** While writing this, I thought it was that Lupin had never been told of the prank, but after re-reading the end of book 3, I now remember that he just hadn't been in on the prank. It worked too well with the way it was and I couldn't think of a way to change it, so I just kept it the way it was. Review, please!

* * *

**Preview of Chapter 8—What Really Happened:**

Harry finds a curious object in Snape's house that brings him back three hours into the past, and with that spare time he decides to follow Snape and Lupin…


	8. What Really Happened

**A/N:** Another really long chapter, so prepare yourself! Happy reading!

"The greatest virtue of man is perhaps curiosity." –Anatole France

**8**

**What Really Happened**

Two hours later, Harry woke up from a nap he hadn't realized he had fallen into. His watch said that it was only a couple of minutes before twelve in the morning. He fixed his glasses that lay askew on his face and then sat up in bed.

Snape hadn't come back from his discussion with Professor Lupin. It wasn't the fact that his Potions professor hadn't come back that was bothering him; it was what they were talking about. Snape had said that they couldn't talk about it in front of him. Maybe what his father had done had been really terrible; so ghastly that his professors couldn't speak of it with him around. But Snape had mentioned Black as well. As he thought about it, it only confused him more. What did Black have to do with his father and a prank at school?

Leaving the Animagus book open on his bed, Harry opened his door to get a drink from downstairs when he realized his trunk was open. He closed it with a thud and then left his room. After getting a glass of pumpkin juice, he went back upstairs. As Harry walked past the little library, the thought occurred to him that Snape might have some books on becoming an Animagus. He seemed to have quite a lot of books on the Dark Arts.

With no room left on the table, Harry placed the glass on the floor beside the red armchair. He began to look at the titles of books on the massive shelving unit against the left wall, but after thirtyminutes found nothing pertaining to the transformation into an animal.

As he was nearing the middle of one of the bookcases, he saw a dusty book titled Transformations: The Wolf. Thinking it had something to do with becoming an Animagus, Harry reached up to get it. He flipped to the first page.

_One bite or scratch could turn a person into a werewolf. Though_

_a person is a werewolf for the rest of their life, that part of them_

_only comes out once a month at the full moon. The first transformations_

_are the worst, but even after the person gets used to it, they are_

_still painful. While transformed as a werewolf, one looses sight_

_of who they are, and who their friends and family are, only wanting _

_to quench their thirst for blood and violence…_

Closing the book, Harry realized it was a book on werewolves, so he put it back on the shelf.

Near the end, he came upon a rather thick, dark gray book with no title. Since it was wedged tightly between two other books, Harry got it out with difficulty. He flipped open the cover to a slightly yellowed first page that read: _Horcruxes: The Infamous Protectors from Death._

Harry had no idea what Horcruxes were, but, curious, he turned the page.

_Foreword:_

_Objects to ward off death, Horcruxes will ensure you survive, but at_

_a cost to your virtue and morality. When creating such an object, your_

_soul becomes split, placing part of your soul in an object where it will_

_be safe away from your body. As that part remains safe, it ensures you_

_stay alive. Making a Horcrux takes great skill and willpower, as well as_

_a vessel, or object, for the part of your soul, and another human to prey_

_upon. Since the process of making a Horcrux is intricate, not many_

_witches or wizards go through with it. Besides being complex in many_

_ways, the fact that one must kill is the most gruesome of the procedure._

_Though Horcruxes can be useful to some, it should be known that_

_splitting your soul is highly unnatural, and should only be created_

_in certain dire circumstances. While in the process, excruciating pain_

_pervades your body, even though it takes less than a minute to undergo._

_So be wary and consider the consequences before making a Horcrux._

Harry looked up from the book as he closed it. He had heard of Horcruxes before, just not by name. He had spoken with Dumbledore and Tom Riddle about them just two months ago. Dumbledore had mentioned all of what was said in the book, except for the part that a person obtained a Horcrux by murder.

As he stood there, he realized Riddle had had to kill someone to make the diary in which Harry had written in. But then he remembered that his former friend had in fact been Voldemort. That meant Voldemort had created a Horcrux to protect himself from death. Was it possible that the notorious man (if you could call him a man for the horrific things he had done) had a genuine fear? As far as Harry could tell, everyone in the Wizarding World wanted Voldemort gone indefinitely (which Dumbledore was sure had yet to happen), but most people feared him too much to even mention him name, let alone go after him. So why would he go to such measures to protect himself? And was killing an innocent person and splitting your soul worth defying nature and Death himself?

Wanting nothing to do with Horcruxes, Harry carefully, as if it were infected, put the book back on the shelf and continued his search for an Animagus book.

When he got to the last five books on the bottom shelf, Harry sat down on the floor, so that it was easier to read the titles. He checked his watch, it said: 12:49. None of the books had anything to do with Animagi but the second to last was titled Hogwarts, A History. He knew that was the book everyone in school had strived to obtain last year from the library so that they could read about the Chamber of Secrets, so he took it out.

As he pulled out the very dusty book, he heard something made of glass and metal hit the wood shelf. Where the book had been, now lay a small, golden object in the shape of an hourglass attached to a gold chain. He picked it up, feeling the cold glass against his fingertips.

Standing up, Harry saw that the small object was magnificent-looking, even in the dim light and albeit he had no clue what it did. Curious, he put the chain around his neck, shuddering slightly at its icy temperature. Without thinking of what it was capable of, Harry turned the turned the object three times.

It felt like there was a rush of wind going by him, but yet Harry's feet remained immovable on the ground. Blurs of color flew before Harry's eyes, and his ears were pounding inside his head. When the feeling stopped, he saw that he was still in Snape's little library.

"Bloody object," Harry mumbled to the object around his neck.

Everything was the same, everything was as it had been. The only difference was the glass of pumpkin juice that had disappeared, but he didn't notice.

Then Harry heard voices coming from downstairs. As he walked to the door, he put the golden item under his shirt collar, feeling the cold glass against his chest, so as to not be caught with it. Careful not to make any noise, he proceeded down the stairs, staying close to the wall. Harry didn't want to look out just incase someone saw him. He listened instead.

"You mean now?" said a familiar voice. There was a pause before the man continued, "Fine. Hog's Head. In ten minutes."

Harry's eyes widened as he realized that he had heard this conversation before – three hours earlier. How was that possible? He hadn't done anything strange…except use the glass object. He looked down at the gold chain vanishing into his shirt. Had he been taken back in time by the object hanging around his neck? To make sure he wasn't dreaming, he took another step so that he could see the room.

The stair creaked and he impulsively froze against the wall. That's when it occurred to Harry that before when he had heard the stair creak, it had been his future self. The him now.

He listened again to exchanges he had already heard. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, Harry. Oh, and I know it passed, but happy birthday," stated Lupin.

"Thanks," he heard himself say. A small "pop" told him that Lupin had Apparated and then he heard, "You're leaving. I heard. Bye."

That's when Harry realized that his past self would be coming up the stairs in less than a minute. Quickly but quietly, Harry ran up the steps and into the library. He let the door stay ajar, so that he could see himself go into his room and close the door. It was definitely odd seeing his untidy-haired, scrawny self.

Harry sneaked down the stairs and then stepped on something. He bent down and felt the soft, airy fabric of his Invisibility Cloak. Harry knew he wouldn't need to put it on since he knew his past self would be staying upstairs and that Snape would be gone for three hours, probably even more.

As Harry stood there, the thought occurred to him that he had three hours to do whatever he pleased. He wanted to go to the Hog's Head, so that he could hear Snape's story, but he knew he had no way to get there.

Harry paced back and forth for a few minutes, thinking of how he could actually accomplish this. He had been stuck in Snape's house for two and a half weeks and he wanted to get out immediately. The first thing's first: he needed his Conglomerate Stone.

Before he knew it, Harry was upstairs opening his door slowly so that he didn't wake himself. Slowly, he opened his trunk, taking out his Conglomerate Stone and Hand of Glory. Harry grabbed one of his school robes and put it over his Muggle clothing. He put the items and his wand, which had been in a front pocket of his trousers, in his robe pockets and walked out of the room. He finally breathed again.

As Harry walked back downstairs, he knew there was no way he could get directly to Hogsmeade even with his Conglomerate Stone. It was impossible. He figured that to do this he would have to use his Stone to get into Slytherin common room and then he would have to walk to Hogsmeade and then find the Hog's Head. By then, Snape and Lupin might already have finished their conversation.

Although Harry knew it would be risky, he thought it was worth a shot. What was life without a little risk, anyway?

Knowing he would have to get back to Snape's later on, he took out his wand, despite that it was illegal because he was underage, and pointed it at the white stone. "_Severus Snape's house!_" The stone instantaneously became opaque.

With his Invisibility Cloak over him, Harry touched the opaque green stone. He saw a whirlwind of color and felt his feet lift off the ground before retouching. He was now standing in an exceptionally dim Slytherin common room. Of course, it was completely empty since students weren't due back for another month and a half. Harry pocketed his Stone and wand before touching the stonewall and exiting.

Checking his watch, Harry saw he had less than five minutes to get to the Hog's Head before Lupin and Snape arrived. But he knew he wouldn't make it in time.

Harry ran through the passageways and up the stairs until he got to the Entrance Hall, where he took a break to catch his breath. The Great Hall was to his left. Curious to see what it looked like in the summer, Harry peeked inside. The four House tables and the Staff table weren't present and the candles, which still hung in the air, weren't lit, making the room dark and eerie.

With his breath regained, Harry ran from the Great Hall and turned to the left to go out the Entrance Hall doors onto the grounds. He ran down the path towards the front gate, but stopped a ways before it when he saw two winged boars on either side. He then remembered that he was under his cloak and walked forward until he was past them, when he ran once more towards the little village.

Harry walked down the main street of Hogsmeade. The street didn't look very busy, but he supposed that with Black was on the loose, people decided to stay home instead of go out. He walked past the Three Broomsticks, Honeydukes, and Zonko's.

To dodge a group of men, Harry stayed close to a small little shop. Pinned to the wall beside him was a poster. He glanced at it to see that it was a poster of the escaped prisoner Sirius Black. He didn't want to waste time looking at the poster, so he walked on.

A minute later, he noticed a side street to his right. He looked down it and saw a sign with a boar's detached head as blood poured out around it. Thinking that must be the Hog's Head, he walked toward it.

As he pushed open the crooked, wooden door, he was hit with the pungent smell of goats. He saw the small pub was faintly illuminated with only a few candle-lit lamps. Making his way forward, he was careful not to bump into anyone, not that the people would notice in their state of mind, but he wanted to be cautious nonetheless.

In the back, at an old wooden table that was further from the others in the pub, he found Lupin and Snape, sitting opposite each other. It was obvious they didn't want to be overheard. With a closer look at the two men, he saw their hatred and distaste at being in a close vicinity of the other. Snape's face held a grimace, as if he had just sipped sour milk, and Lupin looked anywhere but the man in front of him, slightly annoyed.

The bartender, who had a gray beard and glasses, walked toward them, carrying two Firewhiskey's. Snape and Lupin paid the man separately before each taking a long draught. Snape held the mug to his mouth longer than Lupin, who wiped his mouth with his sleeve as he waited.

Harry realized he was still standing, so he slowly sunk into the chair that was stationed at the table between his two professors. Lupin on his right, Snape on his left.

"Get back to what you were saying," Lupin reminded.

Snape wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe before saying, "I guess your _friends_ never told you. It was in our sixth year, during a full moon. Black knew you would be transforming, so he told me that if I prodded the knot on the Womping Willow, I would be able to see where it was you went every month."

"Always curious about it, weren't you, Snape?" asked Lupin.

In his seat, Harry turned to look at his new professor. He thought about how Snape had said 'full moon' and 'transforming,' and wondered whether Lupin was a werewolf. He had read the beginning to a book, which said all those things, less than an hour ago. But weren't werewolves dangerous? His encounter with Greyback certainly hadn't been amusing. Harry pushed it out his mind as Snape continued.

"Indeed, I was. I must admit, at first I thought it was another trick. Why would Black tell me such a thing? But I thought I'd go anyway. There would be no harm done if nothing was found," explained Snape. He held the mug of Firewhiskey as it stood on the table, staring intently at it. It seemed Snape was talking more to the cup rather than Lupin, who was looking rather intently at the man across from him.

"As I walked, I heard something at the end of the tunnel, so I climbed the stairs, ready to look in. Out of nowhere, Potter grabbed me, but I had already turned the handle. The door swung open and I saw you. Potter pulled me away quickly and we ran back down the tunnel. Of course, later on, Dumbledore made me swear not to tell anyone.

"I really hated Potter after that since I know he did it to save his own skin. Had I been killed, the blame would have fallen to Black and Potter, and they would have been expelled. There was no reason besides that to justify his actions."

When Harry heard Snape talking about his father, he leaned in closer since he wanted to catch every bit. So his father had saved Snape's life, but he thought it was to save himself? Harry wanted to curse Snape right then and there.

"You think too low of him. It was only because of the stupid pranks he used to pull on you that you think that," observed Lupin. "If you knew him better, you would never have said that. Yes, he was arrogant, but he would have risked his life if a friend of his were in trouble. You have to look below the surface, Severus."

At hearing Lupin talk so highly of his father, Harry smiled to himself, but unfortunately it didn't last.

"Did he look below the surface, Lupin? Do you think he cared about what he did and to whom? No, I don't think so. And I know you don't think so either," Snape drawled.

"We were kids! What did you expect? James to say he was sorry for making your school years a living hell?" inquired Lupin, his cheeks flushed in irritation. He was glaring at Snape. "Do you still expect an apology from him? 'Cause now you'll never get one."

"I know," asserted Snape as he glared back. "I hated Potter's guts, but I never wished him that fate."

"_Really?_ You were working for Voldemort—"

"_Don't say his name!_" spat Snape.

Lupin looked at him through slightly narrowed eyes. "You were working for You-Know-Who and you never wished an Order member that fate? I highly doubt that," he scolded.

Harry turned quickly to look at Snape. He had been one of Voldemort's followers? That would explain his fear of the name, but then again everyone feared it. Except for Dumbledore, himself, and…Lupin. Harry also wondered what the Order was if someone could be a member of it.

"I've switched sides. You know that," Snape stressed, his voice considerably lowered.

"Have you, Snape?" considered Lupin. He looked at the man across from him intently, watching what he would say or do next.

Snape held Lupin's gaze. Harry watched the two men giving each other dirty looks. After a few seconds, Snape turned away. He picked up his Firewhiskey, taking a long sip.

As Snape drank, Lupin took something out of his robe pocket. Harry leaned in and saw it was one of the posters of Sirius Black hanging around Hogsmeade. Lupin unfolded it, laying it out on the table in front of him. Snape set his mug down.

"Do you know where Black is?" Lupin asked, a generous amount of frankness rolling off his tongue.

"Why would _I _know? Shouldn't I be asking _you_ that question?" Snape asked, eyeing Lupin curiously.

Lupin ignored his question, saying almost casually, "_I_ don't know where he is. He's obviously hiding somewhere."

"I can't blame him for not wanting to show his face," mentioned Snape, hardheartedly. Lupin nodded a little as he looked at his mug.

Lupin then took something else out of his pocket. Harry shifted in his seat to see. It was a more recent _Daily Prophet_ about Black. Lupin set the newspaper down over the poster. Harry stood up, so he could read the main article.

**_Black, First Convict to Escape from Azkaban_**

_Sirius Black, 34, is the first prisoner to escape the walls that make up Azkaban. But the walls aren't the only things that keep in the prisoners. Dementors surround the wizarding prison, keeping the convicts inside by making them re-live and re-live again their worst moments. So its hard to imagine how—_

"What's the point in showing me this, Lupin?" asked Snape. "I've read the article." Harry stopped reading to hear the conversation.

"It says right there, and everyone knows, that it's impossible to get out of Azkaban," replied Lupin. He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Snape. "So how the hell did he do it?"

There was silence as the two men, mostly Lupin, seemed to be thinking about the possible ways to get out of Azkaban. Snape caught the attention of the bartender and ordered another Firewhiskey. Harry turned back to read the rest of what was written.

_So its hard to imagine how someone, who has been there for twelve years, like Sirius Black, could escape unnoticed. Black was also one of the most highly guarded prisoners, making the likelihood of his escape even more impossible._

_Even though it seems Black had not been affected by the Dementors that guard him, we have been told by other guards that he had been heard talking in his sleep. Very recently Black had been heard repeatedly saying, "He's at Hogwarts."_

_One can only deduce Black is going after Harry Potter, 13, who will be going into his 3rd year at Hogwarts. His going after Potter must be for the sole reason of vengeance since it had been Harry Potter who had gotten rid of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

Twelve years ago, when You-Know-Who was in power, families were in hiding; one being the Potter's. After You-Know-Who's downfall from little Harry Potter, Black was found to have been a follower. He decided to go into hiding himself, but an old school friend, Peter Pettigrew, caught up with him in a Muggle area. With one curse, Black blew up Pettigrew and twelve Muggles in the middle of a street. The largest bit that could be found of Pettigrew was his finger. Immediately after, Black was taken to Azkaban, where he stayed for twelve years.

_Black's being out in society causes great stress in the wizarding community. People are hoping he's not gathering old Death Eaters and planning to kill again. That's why every person has to be on the lookout for this man. This criminal, this murderer, could be anywhere, ready to strike again. Black's a dangerous man and the sooner he's found, the better, so our streets and homes can be safe once more.._

After the article, it said: _If you've seen Sirius Black contact the Ministry of Magic immediately via owl_.

Harry took his seat, sighing inaudibly. So that was why Black was after him, because he had gotten rid of the Dark Lord – Black's master. Now it made more sense as to why he had to go into hiding.

He looked at Snape, who was sitting back slightly. There were two mugs in front of him now, one of which he was holding. Lupin was leaning forward, looking at the newspaper and then occasionally glancing around the pub. His mug of Firewhiskey was still partly full. He pushed the newspaper and poster forward as if tired of looking at them.

"There's no way that I can think of for him to escape," admitted Lupin, thoughtfully. "There would be no way to Apparate since he'd be drained of energy after being there for twelve years. The Dementors most likely sucked out his ability to do so. Besides, there might even be anti-Apparating wards."

"So he slipped through the bars. I'm sure he'd be thin enough. I doubt the prisoners eat a lot," muttered Snape coolly.

"That's true, but he'd probably be caught. After finally getting through the bars, Black would be pleased with himself, which the Dementors would sense and he would be caught."

"He could've kept his emotions in check. Obviously, he knew what was lurking around the corner."

Lupin nodded. "Let's say he did manage to get out of his cell. He would have to get past the other guards and make it across the sea back to land. And who knows what creatures are in those waters."

Snape leaned forward. "You seem to have given this a lot of thought. Why are you so interested in knowing, Lupin?" he asked with narrowed eyes. "Planning on going yourself?"

Lupin looked back at him intently, ignoring the latter inquiry. "No real reason. It's just the sole fact that he actually escaped that mystifies me," he said as he looked at his mug.

Snape looked at him incredulously. "Black escaped. That's all we need to know. Now, we just have to get him back into Azkaban."

Lupin laughed a little before saying, "_You_ want Black to return to Azkaban?"

"He's a criminal," stated Snape plainly.

"He's not the only criminal running around freely, Snape," Lupin voiced slowly as he looked at Snape intently. "Who have you tortured…killed, even?"

Harry turned very suddenly, his eyes wide, to look at Snape.

"What are you implying?" Snape asked, slowly. He looked at Lupin with hatred. "That I belong in Azkaban?"

"Maybe, maybe not. But perhaps lying awake at night, thinking about what you did is punishment enough. Tell me, Snape, do you wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat after yet another nightmare?"

Snape stood up suddenly, knocking his wooden chair back. Three men at another table turned. With a flushed face and sweaty brow, Snape's face showed resentment and loathing. "I don't need this crap!" he shouted in anger. Harry was almost startled to see this very unusual reaction, considering the man was always so composed. There was a few seconds pause before Snape leaned over as he put his hands on the table, looking at Lupin with narrowed eyes. "But if it's a fight you're looking for, Lupin, then I'm ready. You wouldn't want me to accidentally _slip up_ about your condition to the school, now would you?"

Lupin glared at him, but said nothing. Snape took his hands off the table, standing up straight. His lips curled into a thin smirk. "No? Well then, let's save that fight for another time, shall we? Besides, I have somewhere else I have to be." Snape gave Lupin a little nod. He then turned on his heel and walked out of the Hog's Head with a swish of his cloak.

Beside Harry, Lupin sighed as he looked at the space where Snape had been standing. But then he chuckled to himself. "Hopefully, Harry will give him hell," Lupin muttered to himself. Harry smiled at hearing that and thought, _Oh, I will_.

Lupin stood up from his chair and then walked out as well. Left on the table were the newspaper, the poster, and the three mugs with Harry hidden beside them.

**A/N:** Well, what did you think? There's a lot going on here. And luckily enough for you, Harry's being back in time still continues on to the next chapter! But please tell me what you think!

And yes, people knew the Potter's were in hiding twelve years ago, they just didn't know that the Potter's knew Voldemort was after them and that that was the reason they went into hiding. It's canon. Lastly, Snape didn't really have anywhere to go, he just said that to leave, but you'll see where he went in a future chapter. Thanks for reading!

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Preview of Chapter 9—After Time Runs Out:

Harry decides to have a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, but when Hagrid comes in and tells him to go back to Snape's, Harry is forced to leave, except he goes to Hogwarts instead…


	9. After Time Runs Out

"There is never enough time to do everything, but there is always enough time to do the most important thing."

-Brian Tracy

**9**

**After Time Runs Out**

As Harry sat there in the Hog's Head, he checked his watch to see that an hour and a half had past. Of course, he didn't have to be back in Spinner's End for another hour and a half. But he got the feeling Snape wouldn't be back until very early in the morning, so he had time to do what he pleased. After tonight, he knew he would be stuck at Spinner's End, therefore he had better make the best of it.

Still covered by his Invisibility Cloak, Harry left the pub. He walked until he got to the main street of Hogsmeade. Tall streetlights with a large flame atop illuminated the street.

A warm gust of wind came at Harry as he walked, making a large piece of paper crash into his invisible chest. Hoping no one saw paper land into nothing, he grabbed it and pulled it under his cloak. He stopped to look at the poster.

There was a rather large picture of a man, holding a card with a number on it. The man had scraggly, long black hair; his face was thin, haggard, and pale. But his eyes, though sunken, still had a shine to them. Above the picture were the words in bold, black letters.

_**Sirius Black, Escaped Convict from Azkaban**_

Harry looked back at the picture with hatred, staring into the man's dark eyes. Black was the one who had put him in this situation – he was now hiding to save his life, and he detested it. But if Black wanted to come after him for making Voldemort vanish, then he would be ready.

Harry grabbed the top of the poster, his fingertips touching, and ripped the paper in half. The rip went right through Black, who had been laughing in the picture. He dropped it to the floor, stepping on it as he continued forward.

Without realizing, he had walked down the road of Hogsmeade towards the entrance, still thinking about how much Black had ruined his life. He stopped and looked around. He saw the Three Broomsticks and hoped it was still open. He could use a warm Butterbeer at the moment. Upon looking in through the window, he saw a man dressed in a dark blue cloak reading the _Evening Prophet_ as he sat at one of the tables. Madam Rosmerta, Harry saw, was sitting behind the counter as she cleaned it lazily.

He wanted to go inside, but with only two people in there, they would definitely notice the door open and close of its own accord. And if he wanted a Butterbeer he would have to ask. But should he risk it? Would she tell Dumbledore he had been there? Would Snape find out?

Against his better judgment, Harry decided to go in. He was already there, and besides, he had already risked getting to the Hog's Head to listen to Lupin and Snape, and it had turned out perfectly fine. What could possibly go wrong in wanting a Butterbeer? He grabbed the handle and swung the door open, walking inside.

The man looked up from his newspaper, eyes wide in curiosity and fear, probably thinking it was Black. Madam Rosmerta stood up from her seat behind the counter, her eyes darting around nervously.

Quickly, Harry took off his Invisibility Cloak and held it in his arms. He felt so much better not being under the incredibly warm cloak. He realized that there was sweat on his forehead and on the back of his neck. His hair was probably sticking up in places, but he didn't care.

"Bloody hell, mate! Thought it was Black! You could've taken your cloak off outside, you know," the man blurted exasperatedly. He then pulled the newspaper up, so his face was hidden from view.

Harry walked to the counter. "Sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean to," he apologized.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," comforted Madam Rosmerta. "People here are more concerned about the Dementors. Butterbeer?"

Harry nodded as he sat on one of the stools. He placed his cloak on the stool beside him. "Why are they worrying about Dementors?" He put some coins on the table.

"Didn't you see one of the posters outside?" she asked. She turned and filled a mug with Butterbeer before handing it to Harry and taking the coins in return.

"I saw one for Sirius Black," Harry replied, and then took a long sip from the mug. It soothed his throat and seemed to take away part of his worries about Black. He took another, shorter sip and then looked up.

Madam Rosmerta was further down the counter, getting a poster that hung up on the wall. She brought it over to Harry, who scrutinized it closely.

**--BY ORDER OF--**

**THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

All employees, residents, and customers should

be aware that due to Sirius Black's escape

from Azkaban, Dementors will commence their patrolling

of the streets of Hogsmeade on the 15th of August.

Following Black's detainment, the Dementors will

be withdrawn. Have a lovely summer.

"Dementors from Azkaban roaming the streets? Does the Ministry really think that's necessary?" Harry asked as he laid the poster down besides his mug of butterbeer. "I've never been near one, but they sound horrible."

"They're worse then horrible, but the Ministry wants them here to protect everyone from Black. _I_ certainly don't want them here. I can't imagine anyone who would. All my customers will be gone," Madam Rosmerta stated as she looked around the room. She turned back to Harry with a half smile. "You might be my only customer, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled back. "If I can get here, I'll come."

p"No, no. You work on your studies. That's most important. And considering Black is after you, you most certainly shouldn't come here. I want you to stay safe." She suddenly gave him a curious look and speculated, "Harry, shouldn't you be somewhere out of harm's way? Black could be near Hogsmeade right now."

"I'm staying somewhere safe. Don't worry," he muttered with a small smile. "I just needed a break from being inside all day and night."

Madam Rosmerta nodded understandingly. "Well, if you ever need a place to stay, you're always welcome here, Harry. I'll do my best to make it as safe as possible."

"Thank you," answered Harry cheerfully. He would love to stay at the Three Broomsticks and have butterbeer all the time. But, unfortunately, he didn't decide where he stayed. "But you'd have to talk to Dumbledore. He's the one who arranged where I'm staying," he added with distaste.

"I'm guessing you don't like where it is you're staying."

"Not at all. I'd tell you where, but…just in case," he muttered as he swiveled on his stool, searching around the room. The man with the newspaper had left.

"I don't need to know," Madam Rosmerta said. Harry turned back to the counter and drank from his mug. "But it was Dumbledore who put you there, so I'm sure he did it with only the best intentions. He wants you to be protected, Harry."

"I know, but—"

The door to the Three Broomsticks opened and closed. Harry turned to see a very large man standing there, sweating slightly from the heat. He saw Harry and a look of surprise came over his face.

Harry leapt from his stool, happy to see his friend. He hadn't seen anyone he was close to in weeks. "Hagrid!"

"Harry! It's good ter see yeh!" Hagrid stomped over, but then stopped halfway. "Wait a minute. Why aren' yeh at – yer hidin' place?" Harry knew he was being careful not to give anything away. Dumbledore must have told him.

"Well, if you know where Dumbledore put me, you'll know why I hate it. I hate him and he hates me. It's horrible," interjected Harry.

"Stop moanin' and groanin'. Dumbledore put yeh there 'cause he knew yeh'd be safe," Hagrid asserted. He stopped for a moment to think. "How long have yeh been here, Harry? 'Cause however long yeh've been here is long enough."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Hagrid continued, "Harry, as wonderful as it is teh see yeh, I want yeh ter go back righ' now. Yer not safe here, so put yer cloak on and run along back."

"But, Hagrid."

"No. Go back," Hagrid said firmly. "Yeh have ter be safe." He walked past Harry to sit down on one of the stools, which creaked slightly from his weight.

Madam Rosmerta asked, "Four pints of mulled mead, Hagrid?" He nodded as she turned to Harry, "Here. Take a butterbeer to go. It's on the house." She placed a full mug next to the empty one.

Harry snatched his Invisibility Cloak and the mug. "Thanks," he answered with a smile. He turned to Hagrid, "See you in September."

"Stay safe, Harry. I'll send yeh a letter."

"Bye."

With the mug in his hand, Harry covered himself and walked away from the two adults. He exited and walked a couple paces, not that they could see him anyway. He checked his watch, and saw that he had fifteen minutes until his three hours were over. But he wasn't planning on going back to Spinner's End now.

Harry smiled to himself, happy he wasn't at Snape's house. He looked up and saw the Hogwarts castle – his true home. With nothing else to do, Harry began to walk back towards the grounds, drinking, somewhat messily, from his mug of Butterbeer as he did. When he finished, he was at the end of Hogsmeade; Harry dropped the mug into a bin.

Seeing as there would be no lighting between the end of Hogsmeade and the Hogwarts castle, Harry took his Hand of Glory out of his pocket, holding it in front of him to see. About twenty minutes later, he reached the uninhabited, dim, and gloomy-looking Hogwarts grounds. Harry strode to the Black Lake, unable to see Hagrid's cabin but the Womping Willow was in sight.

The dark, murky water was moving ever so slightly from the wind, and a reflection from the crescent moon was shining off the surface. Harry sat down near the edge, still holding his Hand of Glory under his cloak. Sitting down, he realized how much he was sweating from the combined heat of being outside in the summer, even though it was night, and of being underneath the Invisibility Cloak.

Harry turned to look at the castle. All the lights, except for a few, were out. Thinking it safe for just a couple of minutes, Harry took off the cloak, laying it on the ground beside him.

With the soft, warm breezes against his skin, he felt a great deal better. He shifted a little to reach the lake and dipped his hands into the chilly water. Cupping his hands, he placed whatever water he could get onto the back of his neck and forehead. After a few moments, he wiped, with the front of his shirt, the drips that ran down his face.

Harry simply sat there, watching the soft-rippling water in complete silence. The only sounds he could hear was the soft gusts of wind, the ruffling of the trees' leaves, and the occasional animal in the Forbidden Forest.

But when Harry heard someone running, the soft pounding of feet against the earth, he stood and threw his cloak over him with impeccable speed. He was now as alert as ever. He turned in the direction of the sound and saw in the distance, a man running towards the Womping Willow.

He squinted, trying to make out who it was. The man did something to the Womping Willow that made its branches freeze. Harry stood there and then gasped aloud. It was Sirius Black.

Snape said Black had told him how to get past the Womping Willow back when he was in school. No one else would go past that wild tree unless they were desperate and needed a hide out. It had to be him.

As Harry crept along to the Womping Willow, he realized that he could alert the Ministry this very moment and tell them Black was hiding past that tree if he went to the Owlry. He knew they would be there in a matter of minutes and take him back to Azkaban.

But Harry would much rather catch Black himself. He wanted the satisfaction of knowing that it had been him. He wanted to see Black's reaction when he saw it was he instead of some Ministry official.

But he also wanted to see Black's face. True, he had seen it on the poster, but he wanted to see it up close. He wanted to see Black for who he really was.

Harry stood a couple of feet from the Womping Willow. Its branches were waving threateningly, ready to strike. He took a couple steps, hoping to see what it was Black had done.

Instead Harry got hit in the stomach so powerfully that he was thrown back; his Hand of Glory flew out of his hand. He landed hard on his back, unable to breathe. All the air had been knocked out of him. He felt something under his back, and grabbed it. It was a plain but long stick.

He grabbed his Hand of Glory, about to toss the stick when he remembered what Snape had said, "_Black told me that if I prodded the knot on the Womping Willow, I would be able to see where it was you went every month._"

All he had to do was prod the knot.

Moving slowly, Hand of Glory in one hand, stick in the other, Harry went toward the Womping Willow. He looked at the trunk for a part jutting out. When he found it, he pressed the stick carefully to the bump. The branches stopped moving, and Harry was able to see a space between the roots of the tree. He threw the stick back to where he found it.

Pushing himself through, he held his Hand of Glory, making sure also that his Invisibility Cloak stayed on. Harry found himself in a cramped dirt tunnel with small roots lining the circular walls. He trod hastily through the tunnel, which eventually rose and curved.

Ten minutes later, Harry saw that he was at the end of the dark tunnel. He pulled himself up through a hole, and found himself in an old, dust-filled room. The dust stung the back of his throat as he breathed. Looking around, he saw furniture, except whatever was there was battered to bits. There were rips in every piece of fabric. There were a couple of windows, but Harry couldn't see out of them because they were either so grimy, covered with thick curtains that looked beyond repair, or nailed over with wood panels.

The floor also had a thick layer of dust. Harry saw discernable footprints, leading out of the room. Slowly and quietly, he followed the dusty prints. They lead into a hallway and then up the stairs. The pale wallpaper was peeling on the first floor, as well as on the landing, which is where he stopped.

Across from Harry was a door held ajar. Coming from the room was soft, yellow light, and he saw footprints leading in. He heard sounds coming from the room. Harry stowed his Hand of Glory away and instead took out his wand. He didn't want to be without it.

Taking a deep breath, Harry walked toward the door and kicked it open.

**A/N:** So, are you wondering why Harry has stayed past his three hours and not messed up the whole universe? Well, because no one knew he had left or witnessed his leaving, he was able to not go back at the same time because no one knew. I hope that made sense. Did you like the chapter?

I would also like to say thank you for all your encouraging and helpful comments, whether ecstatic about the story or critical of the writing. I love your comments either way – they help me very much and I love reading them! Thanks again!

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Preview of Chapter 10—Black As Night:

Harry's first encounter with the infamous Sirius Black, and he discovers who Black's next victims are… 


	10. Black As Night

"The quality of decision is like the well-timed swoop of a falcon which enables it to strike and destroy its victim."

–Sun Tsu

**10**

**Black As Night**

Harry walked toward the door and kicked it open.

Black, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor, stood up suddenly with his eyes wide in alarm. He was wearing a torn and dirty cloak, which had probably been black at one point, but was now a worn-out gray. Beneath that his black and white stripped Azkaban uniform was covered in dirt and grime. It seems, he had been eating on an old blanket; it was clear by the leg of chicken in his hand and there were more pieces on the old cloth. There was also a large glass of pumpkin juice. Black must have gotten the food from the kitchens in Hogwarts.

The room was almost completely bare except for a moldy four-poster bed. There was a boarded up window on one side, the wallpaper was shredded, and the air was musty. The floor wasn't completely covered in dust, so Black must have been staying here for a while. But Harry couldn't tell how long. Days? Weeks?

Black dropped the chicken, instead taking out his wand. He turned to face the door, his wand at the ready as he looked around.

Harry moved toward Black without making a sound. He had to get the wand out of Black's hand, but he couldn't use his own wand since they weren't on school grounds anymore. He would have to take it with his hands. Harry knew he could only use his wand if Black attacked him.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Black asked, his eyes darting about uncertainly.

Black shifted a little, and Harry saw a piece of newspaper pinned to the opposite wall. On the newspaper was a picture of the Weasley family taken at the Burrow before they went to Egypt. The family of red-heads were smiling and laughing as they stood together.

Were the Weasleys Black's next victims? But why would Black want to go after them? Had they done something to him in the past? That seemed highly unlikely. Black was a crazed madman after all. But he couldn't let Black hurt the Weasleys.

Harry was close enough to Black to grab his wand. In one quick and fluid motion, he grabbed the wand and then flung it away, giving the appearance of having performed an Expelliarmus Spell. He heard it land somewhere behind him.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" Black yelled, taking a step back. His pale, thin face was contorted in suspicion and his eyes darted around the room quickly.

"Who are you planning on killing next? The Weasley's? What've they ever done to you?" Harry asked with malice.

Harry walked as he spoke, so that Black couldn't pinpoint his position. He watched as Black turned on the spot, his eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

"You don't need to know," Harry replied, watching Black closely. He stopped moving when he was standing behind Black, who seemed to have heard him because he turned, almost facing Harry.

"You're just a boy," Black mocked, a smirk across his lips. "So what are you going to do? Take me back to Azkaban? _Kill me?_" His eyes moved around the space in front of him. "I have something that needs to be done first."

"And what is that?" Harry asked, somewhat angrily.

Black laughed a little before saying, "You don't need to know."

There was silence for a few moments as they just stood there. Quietly, Harry walked until he was once again standing behind Sirius Black, his wand pointing at the man. In one quick motion, he took his Invisibility Cloak off, which landed in a pile on the floor behind him.

"I know you're after me, Black," Harry stated. Black straightened at the sound of his voice, and turned slowly toward him, his dark, sunken eyes looking right into Harry's green ones. "So before you can kill me, I'm going to kill you."

"Oh, really? You couldn't kill a fly. You need real anger and hate to kill someone."

"Well, you would know, wouldn't you?" replied Harry. "You killed all those people with one curse." His wand was pointing directly at Black's chest.

"No – you don't know the whole story."

"I don't need to know the whole story!" Harry was yelling now, but he couldn't seem to help it.

"Pettigrew he—"

"You killed Pettigrew!"

"No! I didn't!"

"Did Azkaban do that much damage to you, you can't even remember what landed you there in the first place?"

"Don't you know what Pettigrew did to your parents—"

"Don't mention my parents!" Harry shouted. "You have no right to—!"

Unexpectedly, Sirius Black was thrown against the opposite wall. Harry hadn't realized that while screaming at Black, he had also been flicking his wand at him. It must have been his resentment and rage transferring to his wand.

Black groaned in pain, grabbing the back of his head. He was sitting at the bottom of the wall, glancing down. He suddenly looked up, which Harry hadn't expected, extending his right arm forward. "_Accio wand!"_ It had been lying somewhere to Harry's left, but instantly flew to Black's hand.

However, before Black could stand, Harry had run to his Invisibility Cloak, throwing it onto his shoulder, and had fumbled for his Conglomerate Stone, which was now in his left hand. Though he was still holding his wand, he was ready to touch a stone.

Sirius Black stood up, his wand at his side. "Does this mean goodbye?" he teased with fake sincerity.

"For now," said Harry, his eyes narrowed as he stared at Black. The anger from before still lingering as he spoke.

Harry knew where he wanted to go. Still making eye contact with Black, he touched the orange stone. He felt himself being pulled and colors flashed before his eyes. The Burrow's front door was in front of him, but as he glanced at the silent, unlit house, he realized he had completely forgotten that the Weasley's were in Egypt. He took out his Hand of Glory and then looked in through the nearest window. It was nearly pitch-black.

But Harry had to warn them about Sirius Black. He was sure that they were Black's next victims. There was no other reason that Harry could think of for him to have the Weasley's picture. He wouldn't let Black kill them one by one. But since he couldn't go to Egypt to warn them, he would have to resort to parchment.

Harry stuffed his Invisibility Cloak in his pocket, as well as his Conglomerate Stone, as he looked for a window that he could open. Luckily, the next window over was open just enough so he could place his fingers underneath. He pulled the windowpane up, so he could make it through. Harry put his wand and Hand of Glory on the small table that was just beneath the windowsill.

As he went through, head first, he realized he should have thought better of it because he lost his grip on the edge of the table, and fell to the floor. His wand fell off and rolled under the kitchen table. Since he was already sprawled on the ground, he picked himself onto his forearms and crawled under the table to get it. He crawled back from under it, and wiped the dust from the front of his robes.

Standing up, Harry placed his wand in his pocket, knowing he wouldn't need it at the moment, and then grabbed his Hand of Glory from the table. With light coming from the Hand, he looked around the kitchen for a piece of spare parchment.

In the process, he saw Mrs. Weasley's amazing clock, which told where each Weasley was or their condition at the time. All the Weasley's names were pointing toward "Holiday" at the moment. Hopefully, it wouldn't change to "Mortal Peril."

At the end of the counter where Mrs. Weasley did her cooking were a couple sheets of parchment. Harry grabbed one and the quill lying next to it. He opened the bottle of ink and began to write.

_Dear Weasleys,_

_Don't ask how I know because I can't tell you now, but Sirius Black is after you all. He knows when you're coming back and he might be at the Burrow waiting for you when you do. Don't come straight back to your house. Wait a few days, so that he'll leave. When you come back stay at the Leaky Cauldron or another hotel. Just please don't go to the Burrow!_

_Harry_

He folded up the parchment, and then realized that he didn't have Hedwig to send the letter. She was back at Snape's house. So Harry closed the window and took out his Conglomerate Stone. Pressing the white stone, Harry was magically brought to Snape's sitting room. He put the Stone back in his pocket as he ran upstairs.

Hedwig, who hooted cheerfully at the sight of Harry, flew down from the top of the dresser, landing on Harry's bed. "Hedwig, you need to get this to the Weasley's as fast as possible. Okay?" Harry asked. She hooted in response. "Make sure you get a reply from them." Hedwig hooted again as Harry tied the letter on with some old twine. She flew out of the window immediately after.

Harry sat down at the edge of his bed and sighed loudly. So much had occurred today that he didn't even know what to think about first. He just hoped the Weasley's didn't think he was crazy or ask too many questions, and he especially hoped they did what he said because he didn't want any of them to get hurt or worse.

As Harry flattened his dark hair, he realized that he now knew why being at Snape's house was safe. Black and Snape had hated each other during school because of the prank Black had pulled on him, and they probably still did. So it was obvious Black would never come here; he didn't want to see or be around Snape. Of course, neither did Harry.

Harry checked his watch. It was 2:14 am. He didn't know when Snape was going to come back, although he hoped it was never. He knew Snape wasn't too keen on coming back, and Harry wasn't too keen on having him come back.

Still at the edge of his bed, he kicked off his trainers. One of them hit the door while the other hit his trunk, awakening a small owl that he hadn't noticed upon entering the room. The dark owl hooted noisily as it flew over to his bed, a large envelope tied to its leg. Harry immediately noticed the "M" imprinted in the wax seal, and knew it was from the Ministry of Magic.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_It has come to our attention that you performed a spell to assign a Portkey on a Conglomerate Stone at Severus Snape's place of residence on this evening, August 3rd, at four minutes to ten._

_As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spell work on your part may lead to expulsion from Hogwarts (Decree for the Reasonable Restrictions of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C)._

_We would ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of the Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy._

_Enjoy your holidays! _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk – Ministry of Magic_

Harry hadn't been sure that they would find out he had used magic. He thought for sure that they would overlook that spell and send him a letter about throwing Black against the wall. But perhaps he was near enough to the school that it hadn't mattered. Whatever the case, he would have to be a lot more careful. Next time, he might be expelled.

Harry ripped the letter and tossed it into the bin. He walked to his trunk and put his Invisibility Cloak, Conglomerate Stone, and Hand of Glory inside. He then went to his dresser, taking out his pajamas. As Harry changed, he realized he still had the golden object and chain around his neck. He walked back to his trunk to put the object inside a pair of socks. It didn't seem like Snape would be using it anytime soon, and besides, he could always return it later.

Though he was completely knackered, Harry decided to take a shower. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep even if he tried. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins and he couldn't stop his mind from whirling about all that he had heard and seen.

Ten minutes later, Harry was out of the shower and in his blue-striped pajamas, which were getting noticeably too short. He bung his clothes and cloak onto his bed, and then dug inside his trunk for the spell book Hermione had given him. Book in hand, he went downstairs, placed it on the cocktail table, got some pumpkin juice, and sat down on the worn-out couch.

Now that Harry had met Black, he wanted to be ready, so he looked over some spells and how to do them for about ten minutes. But he couldn't concentrate. He kept thinking about Black. Would the man stay in the same hideout, even if Harry knew he was there? Harry doubted it. When September did finally come, he didn't think Black would be as close as the Womping Willow. But Harry truly had no idea where Black would be or how close. And the idea, honestly, scared him.

Just a couple hours ago, Madam Rosmerta had said to him that Black could be near Hogsmeade, but he hadn't believed her. Now he knew, she had been right.

Harry closed the book, but kept it on his lap.

Why hadn't he just turned Black into the Ministry. He might even be able to do it right now. He could still be there. But Harry knew it would be too easy. Black would run and in his haste might even hurt someone. Harry thought, _I'll catch him. I swear I will. I'll catch him when he's off his guard. I'll make a plan of some sort. _It was clear to Harry that he had to catch Black because he knew that if the Ministry caught him, they would just send him back to Azkaban. And that would be a waste. Obviously, it didn't affect him like the other prisoners.

Harry yawned widely. _Black must be crazy._ He yawned again. _Completely bonkers._ He yawned once more as he closed his eyes slowly…

_Harry was in a small, dark room. There was an old four-poster off to one side. On the floor was a small pile of candy in various colored wrappers that Harry somehow knew was his. This was his hiding place._

_Suddenly, the door swung open and Sirius Black, clad in a light blue cloak, his face flushed, strode in. He was angry with Harry, and instead of taking out a real wand, he took out a wand made of chocolate. Harry looked for his, and found one made of sugar._

_"You stole my candy!" cried Black angrily._

_"No! I was just—"_

_"Nothing you can say about my precious candy can make me feel better!"_

_"If you just heard the whole story, you'd—" tried Harry._

_"I don't need to hear the whole story!" yelled Black. Harry took a step back as Black took a step forward._

_Harry heard a "pop" and now Snape was standing in front of him. "What are you doing?" he yelled…_

Harry woke up suddenly. It took him a couple moments to grasp the fact that he had fallen asleep on Snape's old couch. His book was now on the floor. He leaned over to pick it up and then realized someone was standing in front of him.

Snape was swaying slightly, his eyes bloodshot and face sweaty. His greasy hair was, peculiarly, all over the place, and he didn't have the buttons of his cloak in the correct holes. He was clearly very drunk.

"I s-said…what are you doing?" Snape asked, slurring his words. "This isn't a c-common room."

"I was reading," stated Harry. He was looking curiously at his drunk professor.

"It's 'I was eating, _Professor_' to you," stressed Snape. He sat down in an armchair opposite the couch. "You know, Potter…I don't like you." He was trying to point his finger at Harry, but it was in the direction of the stairs, which was to Harry's left.

"I know, Professor," Harry replied, slightly amused. There was a hint of a smirk on his face.

"But I h-hated your father even more." Snape's bottom lip twitched a little.

Snape unbuttoned his cloak at the collar, looking uncomfortably warm, and then rolled up his sleeves, which Harry had never seen him do. And suddenly, he knew why. On his left forearm was the blackest tattoo he had ever seen. But Harry knew it wasn't a normal tattoo – it was the mark of being one of Voldemort's Death Eaters. It was the Dark Mark.

Without realizing, Harry had stood up and was now leaning over the cocktail table to get a better look. The mark on Snape's arm was a skull with a snake protruding out of its mouth.

He had learned hours before that Snape had been a Death Eater, but it still hadn't completely registered in his mind. He supposed the key words were "had been" because Snape said he had switched sides. But it didn't seem likely to him that Voldemort would just let one of his followers cease to be loyal. Wouldn't he have killed Snape or had him killed? But maybe Snape had switched sides after Voldemort's downfall that way he couldn't do anything. Harry knew he would never really know.

Snape raised his right arm as if signaling for another Firewhiskey. "Bartender! Oh, wait—" He seemed to have finally realized he was at home and not at a pub, which is obviously where he went after his meeting with Lupin.

Harry straightened up. Snape hadn't realized that Harry had been looking at his arm. "I'm going to sleep," Harry said, taking his book.

"I—I didn't say you…could leave," Snape said, pausing to think of the words.

Harry walked away anyway. Drunken Snape couldn't have followed him up the stairs if he tried. He was surprised he got most of his words out correctly.

He turned when he got to the bottom of the stairs to see Snape asleep in his armchair. His right arm was hanging over the armrest of the chair while his left arm was at his side, and his body was slightly slumped. Snape looked like a wreck; which was completely contrary to how he was usually seen: proper but reserved.

It was what Lupin had said to Snape, which made him like this. Snape would never admit it, but he had truly been affected by Lupin calling him a murderer, and Harry knew that.

But that got Harry's thoughts whirling even more. Had Snape actually killed and tortured people? And did he really have horrible nightmares because of it? Those were other things Harry knew he would never know. But he was definitely intrigued by the professor he hated the most.

Harry looked at the wreck of a teacher one last time, and then climbed the stairs. He threw the clothes he had put on his bed onto the floor along with his book. He pulled the covers over him, first putting his glasses on the side table, and then almost immediately fell asleep. If he dreamed, he didn't remember it.

--

**A/N:** The Ministry letter was taken from the American version of _Chamber of Secrets_. Tell me what you think about the chapter. What did you think about drunken Snape?

Well, I've decided! No more "A Different Road" on MNFF. It will only be on here and readers from the other site can come here if they wish, and I hope they do because I feel bad about discontinuing the series there. But anyway, after the lattest chapter is validated on MNFF, it will be solely on !!

**So the question remains, what day would you like me to post new chapters and how often? On Friday or Saturday? Once every week or every ten days? Let me know what you want and I'll base it on the answers I receive!**

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Preview of Chapter 11—Bad News:

When Harry reads the newspaper, he finds out that Dementors will be at Hogwarts, and when Dumbledore arrives, he gets some more bad news…


	11. Bad News

"Bad news isn't wine. It doesn't improve with age."

-Colin Powell

**11**

**Bad News**

When Harry woke up it was close to eleven am, but he had needed the extra time to sleep since yesterday he had been awake a whole three hours more than usual. He dressed in simple Muggle clothes and opened the door to go downstairs when a tawny owl flew in, landing on his bed.

Unfolding the parchment, he saw scratchy handwriting and knew it was from Hagrid.

_Harry,_

_I was happy to see you, don't get me wrong, but you should stay where you're supposed to. You can take a sigh of relief though because I'm not going to tell Professor Dumbledore. But if you go out again, I will. Every other wizard is in hiding, but Black is after you, and you're the only one outside. That's not wise, Harry. Please stay safe,_

_Hagrid_

"I know, I know," Harry muttered to himself. He grabbed some parchment, the white quill, and the other necessary items to writing a letter.

_Hagrid,_

_You have no idea how happy I was to see you! I haven't seen anyone, but Snape, for over two weeks. When Snape went out last night, I decided to get a Butterbeer to warm me up. I was being extra careful and I had my Invisibility Cloak on. Sorry if I upset you, Hagrid. Thank you for not telling Professor Dumbledore. I'll see you in September. (And don't worry about what's written on the letter, I have a special quill.)_

_Harry_

Harry re-read the letter before tying it to the owl's leg. The bird flew off in the direction of Hogwarts, and he left the room, making his way downstairs.

Still in the sitting room asleep was Snape. He was almost exactly in the same position as he was hours ago, except for his head, which turned to rest on his own shoulder, and his legs, which were now out in the front of him.

Starving, Harry went straight to the kitchen. There wasn't a lot of food, but he managed to make himself a couple of scrambled eggs and got a glass of pumpkin juice. He put the plate and glass on the table and sat down. And then he heard Snape moan in his sleep.

There was no doubt in Harry's mind or anyone else's that he despised Snape with a deep, emotionally-tied loathing. But as Snape lay in the next room, he couldn't help but feel slight pity…really slight, as in miniscule. But he decided to make a mug of coffee for his professor anyway. There was no harm in doing so.

After pouring hot water into the instant coffee, since there wasn't a coffee-maker, Harry grabbed the handle of the mug and walked into the sitting room. He laid it down on the cocktail table with an intentional loud thud, so that Snape would wake, which he did, groaning slightly.

Harry stood there as Snape gathered himself. He rubbed his face and eyes with his hands and took a couple of deep breaths. Eventually, he realized Harry was standing there, and looked up at him oddly.

"I made you some coffee," Harry stated plainly.

"Oh…err…you didn't have to," Snape said unemotionally, not looking at him.

"I know, but…you're letting me stay here…" Harry trailed off awkwardly. He quickly walked back to the kitchen.

Before going in, Harry glanced back. Snape was leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs as he put his face in his hands. He could just make out the sound of the man sighing.

After Harry walked into the kitchen and ate his breakfast, he put the empty plate and glass in the sink and walked out of the kitchen to see Snape gone, as well as the mug. At least he had drunken the coffee. As he passed the lavatory upstairs, he heard Snape taking a shower. Harry chuckled to himself as he thought about how Snape's hair was always greasy no matter what. Did he just neglect his hair and never bother to wash it all? Or did he wash his hair with actual grease?

He walked into his room and shut the door, smiling slightly at the thought. But his laughter didn't mask the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach – he was worried about the Weasley's, and hoped a letter came soon.

--

Nevertheless, a letter didn't come until late the next day. Harry didn't know how long it took to get to Egypt and back, but he wasn't eating because he was so anxious. If the letter said that the Weasley's were going right back to the Burrow, he felt as if he would throw something, and a plate of food was sitting in front of him, untouched.

Snape, who was reading the _Daily Prophet_, sat across from him. Harry was holding his fork as he poked at his food, which had at one point been warm. As he prodded some cold rice, he heard a flutter of wings and looked up quickly.

Hedwig flew into the kitchen and landed on the table between him and Snape. Harry stood up to retrieve the letter. He read it as he stood.

_Harry,_

_I don't know how you know, but we trust you and we're glad you told all of us. Molly has already made arrangements for us to stay at the Leaky Cauldron when we return. We'll be staying there for four to five days. Hopefully, when we get back I can come see how you're doing. I'll ask Dumbledore if I can bring Ron. By the way, Ron told me to say hi and that he hopes to see you soon and he'll tell you all about Egypt when he can. Thank you and stay safe,_

_Mr. Weasley and family_

"Thank, Merlin," blurted Harry, contentedly, forgetting Snape was there. Hedwig was now eating his dinner.

A cold, spiteful voice from across Harry drawled, "Didn't I say no letters could be taken in or sent out?" Snape had refolded the newspaper, which was lying next to his plate.

"It's from Mr. Weasley," Harry assured, as if Snape would care, as if it justified the letter. "He was just telling me something."

"Let me see the letter, Potter," demanded Snape. His arm was extended with his palm facing up, waiting for the parchment to be placed upon it. But Harry knew that once he read it, he would ask what it is he warned them about and how he knew if he was supposed to be inside at all times.

"Err…" But Harry could think of nothing to do or say to stop Snape from seeing the letter. He placed it on Snape's palm.

There were a couple seconds of silence as Harry waited for the numerous questions that he knew were going to come his way, but they never did.

"There's nothing written here," Snape informed, slightly bewildered.

Harry sighed, noiselessly, in relief. Mr. Weasley must have used Ron's white quill, and he was glad he did. It was good thinking on Ron's part. "He must've used a special quill or ink because I can read it."

A smirk appeared on Snape's face as he said, "Good, then you can read it to me." He handed the parchment back to Harry.

As Harry took the parchment, he looked it over, trying to figure out what he could say that wouldn't make Snape ask questions. "Err…'Harry, Hopefully, when we get back I can see how you're doing. I'll ask Dumbledore if I can bring Ron. Stay safe, Mr. Weasley and family.' That's it."

It was obvious Snape knew he had lied or left out a part, which he had. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion, but he couldn't prove it. He couldn't read the letter, and Harry smirked as Snape's mouth turned into a thin line.

"No more letters, Potter. Anymore, and this place won't be safe any longer. And it would be such a shame if you died," Snape taunted with obvious sarcasm as he stood up and left.

Harry refolded the letter and placed it in his trouser pocket. He really hoped Mr. Weasley did come to visit with Ron. He hadn't seen either of them since the end of June, though he particularly wanted to see his friend.

As his thoughts wandered randomly, Harry wondered how much his friend had grown since the last time he had seen him. Ron seemed to have numerous growth spurts in short amounts of time. Though he doubted Draco or Hermione would have such drastic changes in their height or appearance, he wondered if they looked different as well. He hadn't seen them in a couple of weeks either. How much had his friends changed while he was locked away from the world?

Was Harry the only one who hadn't changed? But then again, maybe he had…just in a different aspect.

Harry knew he had changed less in looks and more in personality and behavior. He knew it was from staying with Snape, who only fought with him, and from Black, who was trying to kill him. The constant reminding from everyone to stay safe and stay inside was driving him mad. It only made him want to be outside more and be more reckless. He would rather go outside whenever he pleased and risk being caught by Black than be stuck indoors and constantly be told to be safe.

The only reason Harry obeyed the rules and stayed inside was because it was Dumbledore who had set them and it was Dumbledore who had placed him there. And he didn't want to go against his headmaster, not when he had done so much for him already. Harry knew ever since he had told Dumbledore about what he had seen in the Mirror of Erised in his first year that Dumbledore didn't completely trust him. So, he didn't want to give Dumbledore a reason not to.

Harry departed from his thoughts to see Hedwig still there. She had picked at some of his dinner. As he looked at her, she hooted and then flew away, probably into his room.

On the table, Harry noticed, lay the _Daily Prophet_, so he picked it up, curious. Was there anything about Sirius Black today?

**_Dark Disturbances Near Hogsmeade_**

_If you've been to Hogsmeade in the past few days, you would have noticed, not __only the posters for Sirius Black, but the posters warning that Dementors are to __search the village. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, tells us they will start __patrolling the streets for Black on the 15th of August at sundown. "The Ministry __is working tirelessly to find Sirius Black. That's the reason we've decided to have __the Dementors patrolling. We all want Black to be found as soon as possible, so __please be on the lookout," Fudge said, who did indeed look worn out from his work. __A reporter asked Fudge why the searches were starting so late in the summer when __Black had escaped in the middle of July, and the Minister replied with, "If I could've __had the Dementor searches start before the 15th, I would've. But there were a lot __of people to go through to get approval, despite the fact I'm the Minister. It was a l__ong process." Fudge also told us that he advises those shopping and working in __Hogsmeade to finish or close up their shops before the Dementors start their daily __search. And we have just been informed that Dumbledore, by Fudge's persuasion, __is now planning for Dementors to guard Hogwarts during the school year. Of course,____they would want all students, like Harry Potter, as safe as possible within the __well-known castle._

Harry already knew of the Dementors around Hogsmeade since he had been told two days ago by Madam Rosmerta. But he hadn't known about them patrolling Hogwarts. Would those creatures actually be inside the castle? Of course, Harry had never been around one before, but he knew they brought out someone's worst memories and he didn't want to be in the proximity of a creature like that. Were they going to be in the classrooms, in the Great Hall, and in the dormitories? If so, he would never be able to concentrate or eat or sleep. Harry sincerely hoped Dumbledore had told Fudge that they should stay outside where they belong.

--

Something was hitting the windowsill loudly. Harry picked up his head slightly to see rain beating against the half-open window. Water was splashing lightly into the room, but he was too lazy to get up and close the window, so he left it and fell back asleep.

Hours later, Harry awoke. The pouring rain had still not ceased to stop. He knew it was morning, but it was so dark outside it looked like night, giving the room a cave-like appearance. The floor below the window was wet and the walls were also slightly damp.

Harry turned on the lamp, grabbed his glasses, and walked over to close the window. With his sock-covered feet, he accidentally stepped on the wet carpet and moaned with discomfort. He closed the pane, but the sound of rain hitting the window only seemed to get louder. He rubbed his eyes as he walked to his trunk and got dressed. After he opened the door to his room, he saw that Snape's door was slightly ajar. He closed his door quietly and peered in from the hall. Harry had never seen Snape's room before.

Inside, on the wooden floor were numerous piles of large books, in addition to some clothes and cloaks. There was a wooden-framed bed covered in gray sheets with the headboard against the left wall. A desk to the right of the bed had even more books and papers upon it, as well as a small iron cauldron. An old wooden chair with a black cloak hanging over it was tucked lazily under the desk. There were a couple of shelves above the desk, upon which there was numerous vials filled with different colored potions. A window was opposite the door, but it was half-covered by a thick navy blue curtain.

Harry didn't see Snape inside, so he must be…

"What do you think you're doing?" a voice asked.

Harry straightened in posture, his eyes opening wide, as he turned quickly. He didn't know what to say. "I—I was just…"

Without saying another word, Snape moved past Harry, further opening the door to enter. He looked back at him and then closed the door in Harry's face.

Harry stared at the door for a few moments, hearing some movement on the other side. He moved to go down the stairs, walking over the third to last step. He wasn't very hungry, but he sat down at the kitchen table nonetheless. There was no newspaper, so Harry knew Snape hadn't gone to get one.

The calendar in his room said it was the 7th of August, and that meant he had been in Spinner's End for three weeks. Dumbledore told him seven days ago, he would try to find him another suitable place to stay, but Harry hadn't heard anything from him. He didn't want to stay here anymore. He was confined to this hell hole and wanted out.

Unexpectedly, there were three knocks at the door. Harry stood up, inching closer to stare intently at it. He didn't know who could be at the door, and though he doubted Black would knock before coming in to murder him, he still didn't want to turn the handle. As Harry stared, Snape Apparated in front of him, grabbed the handle, while smirking mockingly at his apprehension, and then opened the door.

Dumbledore stood there, getting rained on. Snape moved aside, and his headmaster walked in. The usual sparkle was in Dumbledore's crystal blue eyes, but he seemed somehow downhearted. He turned to look at Harry, who was now standing in the archway between the sitting room and the kitchen.

"I have something to tell you, Harry," Dumbledore muttered, none too happy. Harry didn't like the sound of that. His headmaster motioned for him to sit on the couch, which he did. Dumbledore sat in one of the armchairs, facing him. Snape stood to Harry's left, near the stairs.

Dumbledore announced, "It's my misfortune to tell you, Harry, that I couldn't find another refuge for you to stay at. There was no one who would take you in. I'm sure, had it been any other circumstance, anyone would love for you to stay with him or her. But considering you're being hunted down by Sirius Black, they would also be at risk, and no one wants to take that chance."

There was a quick glance at Snape, before Dumbledore turned back to Harry. "It seems Professor Snape is the only one up for the job. So you'll be staying here until September 1st."

Harry nodded grimly, though he would much rather punch the wall. He felt as if he had just been told that he was on death row, but would be dying sooner than expected.

"It's not the end of the world. I'm sure both of you will be just fine," assured Dumbledore, a small smile forming on his lips. He turned to Snape. "Severus, every so often go get some Butterbeer for yourself and Harry. It will make staying inside easier." Snape nodded slowly.

Dumbledore stood. "I'm sorry I cannot stay longer," he said, looking from Harry to Snape and back. "I don't know if you read the iDaily Prophet/i yesterday morning, but, in case you were wondering, there will indeed be Dementors at Hogwarts. Now I must set out to ensure they stay outside. Fudge seems to think they will be patrolling inside as well, roaming the corridors as they please. I cannot let that happen, so good day to you both."

His headmaster gave him a small nod and then Disapparated. Harry knew Snape was probably never going to get Butterbeers for either of them. He wasn't very hungry anymore, knowing he would have to stay with Snape for the rest of the summer. He went upstairs into his room, where he stayed to sulk for the rest of the day.

**A/N:** Oh no! Harry has to stay with Snape the whole summer! What ever will he do? Anyway, I'm sorry if Harry was a bit out of character.

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Preview of Chapter 12—Break-In At The Burrow:

Ron and Mr. Weasley, while staying at the Leaky Cauldron, come to visit Harry at Spinner's End, but when the Weasley's go back to the Burrow all is not well…


	12. Break In At The Burrow

"Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do."

-John Wooden

**12**

**Break-In At The Burrow**

It was now the 17th of August. The Weasley's had been back for two days and the Dementors searches had started for Sirius Black. Harry had been looking at the _Daily Prophet_, whenever Snape went to get it, to see if they had anything new on Black and his whereabouts. A woman had seen him near a place called Godric's Hollow a couple of days ago, and some Hit Wizards from the Ministry were sent to check if he was still around, but he wasn't.

It was now late afternoon on a somewhat overcast day. Not that he could tell really when being in the sitting room, which was dim all the time. Harry was sitting on the worn-out couch, reading his book about becoming an Animagus when he heard someone knock on the door.

Harry knew it could be anyone: Dumbledore, Lupin, or Black. He placed the book on the couch as he stood up. Snape was upstairs, but he didn't want to go up since it would seem like he was too scared to open it himself. Since Harry kept his wand with him at all times, even if he couldn't use it, he took it out.

Holding his wand firmly, Harry stared at the door. He grabbed the handle and swung the door open quickly, pointing his wand out. The two people outside took a step back. Harry found two slightly shocked Weasley's, standing near the door. It was Ron and Mr. Weasley.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed happily, pocketing his wand.

"It's good to see you!" said Ron with a smile.

Harry and Ron shook hands vigorously in the doorway, still smiling animatedly at being able to see the other. It felt like he hadn't seen Ron in months, when it had in fact only been weeks. Ron was tan from being in Egypt, and was a bit taller. His bright red hair was also slightly longer than last year.

"Hello, Harry," said Mr. Weasley cheerfully. "How've you been?"

He stepped back, allowing the two red-heads to come in. "Good, I guess. How was Egypt?" he asked as he closed the door.

"Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed as he smiled. "Bill showed us all this amazing stuff in the back of Egypt's Gringotts. He also brought us to tombs in the pyramids. You wouldn't believe the spells the Egyptian wizards used to put on their possessions. I even got to ride a flying carpet!"

"I'm glad you had fun," replied Harry with a weak smile. He was happy Ron had had a good time on holiday because the Weasley's didn't have a lot of money, so they didn't get to travel very much.

"Oh, sorry. I forgot you have to stay here in this house," Ron apologized, as he looked around. Mr. Weasley had found the refrigerator in the kitchen and was quietly examining it. "By the way, whose house are we in? My dad didn't say where we were going."

Harry was going to say he was staying with Snape, but he didn't need to because Snape came down the stairs clad in his usual black. Ron gasped loudly when he saw him.

It was clear, Snape had heard him because he turned to glance at the lanky, red-head boy. Mr. Weasley walked over to Snape, and when the two men were engrossed in their conversation, Ron turned to him and said, "I'm sorry you have to stay here, mate. I had _no idea_. My dad wouldn't tell me."

"It's okay. There's nothing you can do," Harry replied. "Dumbledore put me here because it's the safest place." He shrugged off the second sentence.

Ron, Harry saw, looked at Mr. Weasley and Snape talking, and then turned back to him. "So, how did you find out about Black being after my family?" Ron whispered.

Harry also looked at the two adults. "It's a long story. I'll sneak you a letter and I'll use the white quill, so only you and Hermione can see."

Ron looked around the dim sitting area as he said, "Do you have your own room?"

"Yeah, it's upstairs," mumbled Harry, motioning to the stairs. As they passed the two adults to make their way up the stairs, Harry heard Mr. Weasley say, "Diagon Alley" to Snape.

After the two boys entered Harry's room, Ron reflected, "It's odd seeing a teacher's house, _especially_ Snape's. Has it been horrible living here? 'Cause I know how much you hate each other."

"At the beginning, it was terrible and very awkward, but it got better…in a way. I guess I'm more used to being here."

"I can't see how you can get used to living with Snape," Ron joked.

"That's true," Harry agreed with a laugh. As he glanced out the window to see a skull spray-painted on the wall of a nearby house, he thought of something to tell Ron. "About two weeks ago when I sent you the letter, warning you, Snape had left and then came back completely pissed." Ron's mouth opened in amazement and slight disbelief. "I'll tell you more in the letter, but I saw the Death Eater's mark on Snape's left arm. Ron, he was…or is, a Death Eater."

At hearing about Snape, Ron's mouth opened even wider. "Are you bloody serious?!"

"Shh! I don't want him to know that I know," stressed Harry, looking at the door. "But yeah, dead serious."

"I wonder if Dumbledore knows," Ron contemplated.

"Probably. I mean, he I_is_/I Dumbledore. It seems likely that he would know or could find these sorts of things out."

"I doubt it's on the resume to becoming a Hogwarts teacher," joked Ron. He pretended to hold up a piece of parchment and read off it. " 'Done any evil deeds for You-Know-Who in the last year?' Check." He pretended to mark it off with a swish of his hand.

"I'm sure Dumbledore has other means besides that to find out who's been a Death Eater and who hasn't."

"Yeah, like look at their left arm. One day while staying at Malfoy Manor, you should look at Mr. Malfoy's arm while he's sleeping and see if the mark's there."

The smile on Harry's face vanished, and he looked, incredulously, at Ron, who said, "Well, everyone knows he's a Death Eater anyway. It's obvious from the way he talks about Muggle-borns. He just can't admit it because he'd go straight to Azkaban."

"Yeah, I guess." Harry sat down on the edge of his bed.

"I wish you could've stayed with us, like you wanted. But the Burrow's not safe enough, especially now. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you: my mum and the rest of my family want to thank you again for warning us."

"No problem," answered Harry with a smile. "I couldn't let Black…you know."

"Can you imagine the condition we'd be in if you hadn't?" Ron asked, looking at the floor. His ears turned slightly red at the thought.

A picture of Ron's little sister, Ginny, with her bright red hair askew, lying on the floor dead, arose in Harry's mind. "I don't want to," he replied as he shook his head.

There was some silence between them, but then Harry spoke again, "When are you going back to the Burrow.

"In three days."

"Make sure you're safe and secure," Harry said with severity.

Ron nodded briskly. "Speaking of safe, you've been here for over a month. You aren't allowed to leave, which means you really aren't allowed to do anything."

"I've been reading. I polished my broom a couple of times, and I made this calendar, so I can finally see when I go to Hogwarts," Harry replied dejectedly. After saying it, he realized how truly miserable it all sounded, but Ron seemed to not notice.

"You read too much. Now you're starting to sound like Hermione," mentioned Ron with a grin.

"How is Hermione?" Harry asked. "Have you seen her?"

"No, not yet. I've written her a few times. She's written me about a million times, that girl. She should be back from France by now," recalled Ron. "Hermione and Neville are gonna stay at the Burrow when we go back. I wish you could stay, too." He moved to look at the calendar, which hung over the lamp on the bedside table. "We've got another two weeks until we go back to Hogwarts."

"Those two weeks are going to seem like forever," whined Harry gloomily.

"Just stay in your room away from Snape, and don't piss him off. That's all I can say."

"I've been doing that, or at least trying." Somewhat hesitantly, Harry said, "The second day I was here, Snape hit me."

"Hit?" Ron asked. His eyes widened. "What spell did he use?" He stepped closer to Harry to hear all the details.

"He didn't use a spell, he used his fist," explained Harry. A smirk appeared on his face. "But I _did_ hit him first."

"It's probably a good thing he didn't use his wand. 'Cause if Snape was angry enough to hit you, he might've been angry enough to seriously harm you."

"Don't worry about it. It's nothing I can't han—"

There was a knock at the door. Harry opened it to see Mr. Weasley standing there. "Time for us to leave, Ron. It was good seeing you, Harry," he stated, looking now at Harry with a smile. "Have a good rest of the summer, and thank you again."

"No problem," Harry said with a smile.

"Bye, Harry." Ron assured him with, "I'll see you soon."

"Bye, Ron. Bye, Mr. Weasley."

Mr. Weasley reached into his pocket, taking out an old metal flashlight that was rusting in places with broken glass. Mr. Weasley counted down to one from five as he and Ron touched the flashlight. Half-way through saying one, they were both gone.

Harry turned to the calendar on the wall once they had disappeared. There were exactly fourteen days until he would be able to see Ron again, as well as Hermione and Draco. He couldn't wait until he was out of Spinner's End.

"They've left?" Snape asked from the doorway.

Harry turned toward the doorway and said, dejectedly, "Yes, Professor."

Snape was dressed in his usual black cloak with the buttons up the front and on the back of the forearms. "I'm leaving to have a meeting with Professor Dumbledore." Snape relayed the information unemotionally.

Harry nodded slightly and then turned back to the calendar. He heard a "pop" and knew Snape had departed. Finally, he had some time alone, and since it would be harder to send a letter with his professor around, Harry decided to do it then. He took some parchment and the white quill, deciding to write it on the top of his trunk.

_Ron (and Hermione),_

_Here's how I came to find out about Black being after you…_

Harry wrote down everything that happened that night. How he had gotten that glass object, which transferred him three hours back; how he had heard the conversation between Lupin (he explained who Lupin was) and Snape; how he then went to the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer; how he decided to go to Hogwarts, and how he met Sirius Black. He explained that he saw the newspaper with a picture of the Weasley's pinned to the wall and how he managed to leave, to write them a letter, and warn them.

_I don't think you should tell your parents about how I found out about it. I doubt they will thank me, like they did before. They'll just tell me how dim-witted I had been to go right to Black. But at least it helped you, mate. Tell Hermione and the rest of your family that I say hi. See you soon,_

_Harry_

As he folded the parchment, Hedwig seemed to know that he was going to send a letter and flew over. Harry tied the letter to her leg, and she hooted before flying out of the window. He went back downstairs to where his book still lay.

Sitting down, Harry stared at the brown cover of the Animagus book and thought about the extensive process he and Draco were undergoing. The transformations were severely complicated, and Harry knew he would need many more months to sort everything out. Even with the help of Draco it was complicated and they were the two smartest in their year, aside from Hermione, of course.

Last year, he and Draco had collected a whole bunch of books from the Library about becoming an Animagus. Most days they had worked in the Room of Buried Secrets for hours, reading and sharing important information. They had come pretty far concerning knowledge, but they still hadn't begun the actual transformations. Harry supposed he and Draco could start transforming some time this year, but it would be difficult. Extremely difficult, and not to mention dangerous.

The first couple of times, the two boys would have to use their wands and the spell "Animagus" to transform. But after that, they would be able to do so whenever they pleased. Harry couldn't wait until he was capable of finally changing form on his own.

He opened the book and read; that is until Snape returned an hour later. Snape had Apparated into the sitting room where Harry was. His professor took a couple of steps forward, and he understood that Snape needed to talk to him. He knew it was information from Dumbledore.

"As you know, I just had a meeting with Professor Dumbledore," affirmed Snape, his arms folded over his chest. "It has come to my attention that you will need new supplies for school from Diagon Alley, so on the 28th of August we will be taking a trip there. It's so crowded that we will be hidden from view, but let's just hope Black is not stupid enough to come after you in the middle of Diagon Alley.

"Also, there will be Dementors on board the Hogwarts Express, keeping everyone safe from Black. So, on September 1st, Dumbledore thought it would be safe enough for you to go aboard with your friends," Snape finished. He turned quickly, walking up the stairs and out of sight.

"Great. I have to go with Snape to Diagon Alley," Harry mumbled to himself. He opened the book again, but closed it instantly since he couldn't concentrate any longer.

--

Four days later – the 21st of August – and Harry was in his room, marking the day off on his calendar. The Weasley's, Harry knew, had gone back to the Burrow yesterday. Hopefully, they got to finally enjoy being home. He wished he were there with them at the wonderful house with all the amazing wizard knickknacks.

Harry ran his fingers through his messy hair and dressed. He went into the kitchen to find Snape already there. He was finishing his food, and the _Daily Prophet_ lay in the middle of the table, partly open. There was a plate of food there for Harry.

"I doubt you'll be very hungry after reading the front page," Snape said with hardly any emotion.

Harry looked curiously at Snape and nervously at the newspaper. He grabbed it and unfolded it cautiously as if it were about to explode. Written on the front page below a black and white picture of the Burrow was.

**_Break-In At The Burrow_**

_Last night, at about midnight there was a break-in at the Burrow, the home of the Weasley family. The family had just come back from a holiday in Egypt only to have Sirius Black break into their home. Ron Weasley, 13, who is the youngest son of five, was the one to see Black. "He was in my room, standing over me with his wand out," recalled the boy, "when I screamed, he Disapparated." Molly Weasley told reporters she heard her son screaming and immediately ran to his room with her husband, Arthur Weasley, in tow. Whey they got to Ron's room, they found that Black had gone._

_Hit Wizards and Ministry officials were on the scene last night, eager for Sirius Black's capture once and for all. They searched the area around the Burrow, but could not locate him. This dangerous man is still on the loose. The Weasley's are thankful that nothing worse happened to their family._

Harry's mouth had subconsciously opened as he read. He was content with the fact Black hadn't harmed the Weasley's, but it seemed so peculiar for the prisoner to go to the Burrow, and then do nothing. Why would Black go there if he weren't intending to complete his task? Was he looking for something in particular and couldn't find it? Or had Ron startled him to so great an extent that he had just Disapparated? Of course, Harry had no clue, but what haunted him intensely was the idea that Black might return.

Laying down the newspaper, Harry said, "You're right. I'm not hungry any more."

But Snape didn't seem to hear him or care. There was a pile of Potion books in front of him and some parchment, one of which said "Curriculum" at the top. With school in just two weeks, Harry knew Snape had to make the lesson plans for the first classes.

Harry left the kitchen. There was nothing to do there. He wasn't hungry and he, obviously, didn't want to be around Snape. As he turned the corner into the sitting room, he heard Snape mutter to himself, "No, that's much too easy."

Trying to take his mind off of the Weasley's, he realized upon walking into the sitting room that he had never looked at the books, which lined the room's walls. He walked to the wall opposite the stairs and scanned the titles for anything relating to becoming an Animagi.

After twenty minutes, Harry found on the shelf just above his head a book entitled: The Art of Animagi. Harry grabbed the book off the shelf, scanning the pages. It looked like it held some good information. Unfortunately for him, he knew he had to go back into the kitchen to ask Snape if he could borrow it since it wasn't his.

Snape was writing on a piece of parchment when he entered. "Professor?"

Without stopping, Snape said, irritated, "What?"

"Can I borrow a book of yours?"

Snape stopped, looking at the title before Harry could cover it. He laughed mockingly, throwing his head back slightly. "Training to become an Animagus, are you?"

"No, I just…"

Harry didn't want to say he was since it was illegal for wizards to become an Animagus without informing the Ministry, and it was especially illegal if you were underage.

"You're not smart enough," Snape spat without looking at him.

"I'm one of the smartest in my year!" Harry exclaimed, defending himself.

Snape turned to him. "That you may be, but it's a difficult process. I doubt even little Miss Granger could do it with the help from a thousand books."

Harry was already annoyed by Snape insulting his intelligence, but when he made the remark about Hermione that pushed it farther. "You're not an Animagus. You've never tried it. How would _you_ know?"

"Watch it, Potter," Snape said with a sharp glance in his direction. There was a couple seconds pause before he continued, "True, I haven't tried it. But it's one of the most complicated processes a wizard or witch could undergo. And if you think you're going to become one _effortlessly_, you're sadly mistaken."

"Lots of people have become Animagi, even if it is difficult. Why can't I?"

"Those people happen to be adults, Potter. Something you are not."

"That doesn't mean I can't become one in time," replied Harry. He looked at Snape, saying arrogantly, "You wait! Give me some time and I'll become a full-fledged Animagus!"

"Fine. Go ahead. I'm not going to be the one to stop you, but don't come crying back to me when you realize it's too complicated. I'll only laugh in your face."

"I _will_ continue," stressed Harry defiantly. There was half a second's pause as he caught Snape's eye. "You couldn't stop me anyway."

Harry thought Snape was going to attempt to stop him, despite what he had said, but he did nothing of the sort. Snape simply said, "Do what you will. Just leave me alone. I have work to do."

Without another word, Harry left the kitchen and went up to his room, book in hand. He sat down on his bed and flipped to the first page to read. The book just went over the steps he already knew, only simpler. But he continued to read anyway for lack of anything else to do.

**A/N:** Oh, and in case you don't know pissed means drunk.

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Preview of Chapter 13—Tainted Photographs:

Harry goes through his trunk and looks at his red photo album to find that there are pictures of Black…


	13. Tainted Photographs

**A/N:** The beginning to the chapter is the same day as the last chapter. It's just a two or three hours later.

"There is no odor so bad as that which arises from goodness tainted."

-Henry David Thoreau

**13**

**Tainted Photographs**

"Potter!"

Harry awoke with a start, sitting up immediately. He checked his watch, which said that it was twenty past eleven. He had fallen asleep while reading. The book was now laying over his left ankle.

"Potter!" Snape called again.

Harry fixed his lopsided glasses and left the room. He got to the kitchen and saw, among all the other papers, an envelope addressed to him, which he grabbed and then walked into the sitting room. Immediately, he broke the red Hogwarts seal and took the parchment out. When he saw the tightly spaced, elegantly curved writing, he knew it was from Dumbledore.

_Harry,_

_I'm sure by now, Professor Snape has told you that this Saturday you and he will be traveling to Diagon Alley. You will both be leaving mid-morning, and will be getting there by Portkey. The letter with your books will be sent out tomorrow. I advise you to go through your trunk and make a mental note of what you need. I doubt Professor Snape will want to stay any longer than he has to, and I don't want you staying outside more than is necessary. And I am sorry to say this, but if you see one of your friends, turn the other way. No one is to know with whom you are staying, despite that Ron Weasley already does. The less people know, the better. Sincerely,_

_Professor Dumbledore_

After refolding the letter and putting it in his trouser pocket, Harry went back upstairs. Once inside, he kneeled in front of his trunk.

Only two years at Hogwarts and his trunk was a mess; cloaks, books, and random items all crowded chaotically into the large case. First and foremost, he took all the clothes and lazily went through them, finding that he still had some of his first year robes, which would definitely not fit him anymore. He bung those by the door. The robes that still fit, he folded poorly and put them on his bed, but he still needed some new ones.

Next, his books. He took them out and made large piles next to the trunk. He'd be getting his new list tomorrow, so he didn't have to make a mental note of any books.

Even with the robes and books gone, there was still a lot of stuff left. One of the pockets held old letters from Ron and Hermione and some from Draco, but he left that. What was left was: the Invisibility Cloak, his Hand of Glory, his Conglomerate Stone, the Marauder's Map, his red photo album, his Sneakoscope, his Nimbus 200, potion-filled vials, his pewter cauldron, the golden object (which was still inside the pair of socks), the messenger bag he used for school, and various other objects given to him as presents.

Harry organized the objects left in his trunk as best he could without making it look worse. His broom was laying down the long way with the other objects against one side of the trunk. Harry took the pile of robes and other clothes, putting them in another corner, and then placed the books wherever he could fit them.

Now there was more room, so Harry could see everything. He was very pleased with himself. Everything had its own place. He looked at the door, which still had the old robes in front of it. He had no idea what he was going to do with them. Maybe he could find a second-hand shop he could give them to. He grabbed the old robes from in front of the door and put them in front of his trunk so he wouldn't forget.

He saw Snape's book was still on his bed, but he didn't feel like reading anymore. As he looked into his trunk for something he could do, he heard Snape's door close. Maybe now he could have a peaceful lunch. And just then Harry saw the photo album Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year. He picked it up, closed his trunk, and left the room.

There was nothing Harry could make that sounded appetizing with the food that was in Snape's kitchen. But there was some cereal and milk, which still smelled and look somewhat edible. He sat down at the table with his bowl of cereal and his album and opened the first page as he brought a spoonful of cornflakes to his mouth.

As Harry chewed, he looked at the picture of his mum and dad. He seemed to stare at it for numerous minutes, but couldn't be sure because all he could remember doing was studying their faces. By the time he realized he had been staring at the picture, his cereal was beginning to get soggy.

The next page he turned to was of the four men laughing together. Last year, Harry had only known who one person was, but now he knew three. It was hard to take in the fact that the man standing beside his father was Sirius Black. Black's appearance had changed dramatically; the way he looked then was completely different from how he appeared now. Back then his face had been handsome with subtle pink tones, instead of being thin and ghostly pale. His hair was shorter in the picture, moving gracefully and stylishly, and Black even stood there with a certain suaveness, but when Harry had seen him, he was rather shaky and frail-looking.

Black had been his father's best man at the wedding. That must have meant they had been good friends for a long time. In the Hog's Head, Lupin had mentioned both Black and his father when he had talked about the prank. They definitely had known each other during their school years at Hogwarts.

Just as Harry was about to put another spoonful in his mouth, he stopped, realizing something. In his first year, when he had been in Filch's office with Blaise, he remembered reading some papers. It had said his father and Black had been caught together late at night, roaming the corridors. Another he had read said they had jinxed Snape together. So perhaps Harry's father and Black had been _extremely_ good friends at Hogwarts. They had most certainly held an identical interest – hating Snape.

Whatever the case, it was clear they had been friends with Lupin as well because Harry's new professor was in the picture with them. With a single glance, he could see that Lupin had changed a lot as well. Although the differences weren't as apparent as Black, the adjustments in his appearance were obvious. His light brown hair had been fuller back when the picture had been taken, and wasn't pre-maturely graying, like it was now. His face was also a lot thinner now than it had been before. In the picture, Lupin was smiling happily, seeming to not have a care in the world. Harry had only been around him once, but that worry-free nature had clearly been demolished over the years.

The other young man in the picture, who was standing beside Harry's father, looked cheerful, but he had no idea who it was. He remembered the _Daily Prophet_ saying that Black had been found by his old school friend Peter Pettigrew before his arrest. Could that be him?

Harry took the moving picture out of the four corner tabs that held it to the page since he wanted to get a better look at the shorter man. He had never seen the mousy-looking man before, that much Harry knew. If the man was Pettigrew, he wasn't alive anymore. And definitely didn't look like he did in the picture, especially since Black had blown him into smithereens. If it was Pettigrew then he had been murdered by one of his own friends. Harry couldn't imagine a betrayal like that.

Lupin must have been devastated to have two friends killed in two days and one of them sent to Azkaban for murdering one and deceiving another.

Still holding the picture, Harry pushed the extremely soggy bowl of cereal away from himself, pulling the album closer. Harry was just about to return the picture to its white tabs, but heard a voice behind him ask calmly, "What are you doing?"

Harry turned quickly to see Snape standing behind him, papers in hand. "I'm looking at pictures," Harry replied simply but rather bothered to see the man there. Snape gave him a look. "…_Professor_."

Harry saw Snape's eyes move to the picture he was holding of the four young men. His eyes narrowed dramatically. Was he looking at Black, his father, or someone else?

Harry looked at the picture once more and, though he wasn't sure if Snape knew, asked, pointing to the mousy bloke, "Who is this man?" He could feel Snape behind him, which he without a doubt didn't like, glancing at the picture.

"Peter Pettigrew," replied Snape unemotionally, though there was a hint of bitterness. He moved from behind Harry to sit at the table across from him. Snape took out his wand. With a flick, the cereal bowl had flown to the sink and in its place were two plates with sandwiches.

"I thought so," Harry muttered to himself. He brought the plate toward him and took a bite.

There was a pause as he looked at the picture again. "Were they all friends at Hogwarts?" When Snape said nothing, Harry added, "Professor?"

"Yes," uttered Snape, who afterwards took a large bite out of his roast beef sandwich. "They called themselves…the Marauders." He said the last with distaste.

Harry almost choked when he heard that. "The – the Marauders?" he asked, thinking about the Marauder's Map. Were they the same people who had made that marvelous map of Hogwarts?

If they were, then which nickname belonged to whom? He thought about his father and wondered, which of the names was his: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, or Prongs? He had no idea. None right now seemed more likely than any other.

"That's what I said, Potter," answered Snape irritably. His sandwich was already half-eaten.

Harry took another bite out of his sandwich before placing the picture back into the little corners. He turned a couple of pages until he got to a picture he had never seen before.

There were two fourteen-year-old boys in the picture. Harry knew immediately that the boy on the left was his father because it looked like it could be him. The other boy had to be Sirius Black; even at fourteen he had long hair.

In the picture, the two boys were laughing hysterically. The young James Potter was doubled over in fits of laughter, grabbing his stomach. Young Black was laughing wildly as he grabbed onto James' left shoulder with his right hand to prevent himself from falling. Every now and then another boy would appear on the right side of the picture, who also appeared to be laughing.

When the picture "restarted," Harry saw the two boys standing there with their arms around the others shoulders as they faced the camera, smiling widely. Someone must have said something uproarious because they burst out laughing.

Harry couldn't help but notice that his father and Black seemed like best friends. He sighed noiselessly, taking another bite out of his sandwich. He almost forgot that Snape, who was now writing on a piece of parchment, was sitting opposite him.

It felt odd looking at his parents' old memories while Snape was present. Severus Snape – the man who hated him and had hated his parents even more. He was intruding upon something precious. But Harry didn't feel like moving. He would rather Snape leave, who, Harry knew, was secretly looking at the photographs as he wrote. He could see, almost feel, Snape's black eyes glancing up every now and then.

When Harry turned the page, he felt like burning the next picture. It was of Sirius Black, holding Harry as a baby during his first birthday party. There was a little hat on baby Harry's head, which had a large "1" on it.

Black was wearing a birthday hat and a large smile as he held Harry, carefully, in one arm. His other arm was waving to the camera since he was trying to get Harry to wave also, which he did occasionally.

In the background, there was a table with a birthday cake on it, as well as some cupcakes. A couple of people were having a conversation in the background. Harry saw McGonagall speaking to Hagrid and Lupin. There was also a bald, black man talking to Mr. Weasley.

Harry knew that in the picture, it was only three months until his parents were murdered. And Black must already have been in Voldemort's inner circle at the time the picture was taken. How could he just stand there as he held baby Harry, knowing that Voldemort was going to come after them? Did Black feel any guilt or remorse, or was he completely satisfied with himself? Harry wanted to take his own little self right out of Black's hands. This was, after all, the man who was trying to kill him.

Harry wasn't very hungry anymore, but seeing as he didn't have anything else to eat today, he took another bite. It tasted like nothing in his mouth, and he swallowed it with difficulty.

Turning the page, Harry saw another picture he had never seen before. Little Harry was playing with colorful blocks that hovered slightly above the ground. Lupin was sitting cross-legged on the floor, smiling half-heartedly as he played with Harry. In the background, sitting at a table were his parents and Dumbledore. They didn't look very cheerful; in fact they looked shocked and scared. His parents looked fatigued, like they hadn't slept in days, with bags under their eyes and unusually pale skin. There was a window and Harry saw leaves falling, so he knew it must have been early autumn.

Harry turned the page again. Little Harry was walking, seemingly, alone in front of a nice two-storey, brick house with a little blue cloak on and little green shoes. He was picking the leaves up off the ground. He had a small collection of yellow, red, and orange leaves in his left hand as he picked them up with his right.

The colorful leaves were all over the ground, but the sky was the usual autumn gray. It looked to be about early October, so in less than a month his parents would be dead for little Harry, who had no idea of the chaos and grief going on around him.

Harry turned the page once more, but there were no more pictures. There was just a blank page. He stared at the empty tabs, hoping another wonderful memory would just appear out of thin air. He could see, out of the corner of his eyes, Snape watching him curiously.

Loudly and forcefully, Harry slammed the album shut. He got up quickly, grabbing the album in a hurry, and left, walking towards his room. Once there, he immediately opened his newly organized trunk, searching for the picture of him, Ron, and Hermione. He found it in a side pocket with their old letters.

Harry sat on the uncarpeted floor in front of his trunk, and looked at the picture intently. He, Ron, and Hermione were standing amidst the crowded street of Diagon Alley. They were smiling happily, their arms around each other's shoulders; Hermione's hair was frizzier than usual, Ron's face and ears were flushed, and Harry's messy hair looked slightly lighter in the daylight. Then Ron made an awkward, eye-scrunching face as he produced a farting sound with his mouth, which made Hermione and him laugh uncontrollably.

Harry smiled faintly as he looked at the picture, but inside he felt hollow.

After turning to the first blank page in the red photo album, he placed the picture into the little tabs, and then closed it. Harry placed the album gently in his trunk and then decided to just lie down on his bed. He closed his eyes and sighed, letting his thoughts drift.

**A/N:** Was that pity Snape felt for Harry in that small moment when there were no pictures left? Hmm…possibly, but it was gone quickly. Harry 4th of July to those in the U.S.!!

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Preview of Chapter 14—Fright in the Night:

Sirius Black finds Harry's hideout…


	14. Fright in the Night

"Hello, is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone home? Come on, now, I hear you're feeling down. Well I can ease your pain and get you on your feet again…there is no pain you are receding. I have become comfortably numb."

-Pink Floyd, "Comfortably Numb

**14**

**Fright in the Night**

Harry couldn't sleep. He kept turning; moving to lie on his back and then on his side and then on his stomach. He kept pulling the blanket over him and then taking it off because he would get too cold and then too hot. Finally, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. He grabbed his glasses off the side table. It seemed like a good idea to get some pumpkin juice before attempting sleep once more.

Harry left the door open to his room as he went downstairs in his blue-striped pajamas. It was almost completely pitch-black. He wished he could use his wand, which was currently upstairs on his bedside table, and he wished he hadn't forgotten his Hand of Glory, which resided in his trunk. But he was already downstairs and didn't want to go back. He opened the refrigerator, which brought a considerable amount of stark white light into the room.

After getting his glass of pumpkin juice, Harry took a long sip from inside the kitchen. He liked the feeling of the cool, sweetened drink running down his throat. When he was at the foot of the stairs, he stopped to take another sip.

No other sound could be heard as Harry stood there, except the occasional gulp as he drank. But when he heard the unmistakable "pop" of someone Apparating, it was clear and vivid in his ears. The sound seemed to rip through the darkness.

Harry turned his head to the right to look at the door, hoping to see Dumbledore or Mr. Weasley. But he knew the time, and how late it was. Harry knew who he was going to see way before he turned his head. And he was right.

It was, unmistakably, Sirius Black.

Harry almost dropped the glass of pumpkin juice to the floor, but somehow managed to keep it in his hand. His eyes opened wide in shock. His heart began to race, which he could hear as a pounding in his ears, and his chest felt weirdly hollow.

Black didn't seem to have realized Harry was there since he was looking, blindly, around the room. Harry didn't want to wait for Black's eyes to adjust to the darkness. So he took the opportunity to run up the stairs as fast and quietly as possible.

On the way up the stairs, the glass fell through his fingers and shattered. He knew Black would have heard that and willed himself to run even faster.

Once he was inside his room, Harry ran over to the bedside table to grab his wand. He couldn't believe he had left it upstairs when he had made a promise to himself to keep it with him at all times. But he didn't have time to reflect on it since he then ran to his trunk, heaved it open quickly, and took out his Conglomerate Stone. He heard a shrill but muffled whistling coming from the bottom of his trunk, and knew it was his Sneakoscope, warning him. But he already knew who was downstairs at the very moment.

Harry ran into the hall, which was empty at the moment, to Snape's door. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs. No time to be polite. Harry flung the door open, running into Snape's room.

Snape had been lying on his back with his gray blanket covering only half of him. Harry's eyes were already adjusted to the darkness, so he saw that his professor was wearing a plain, gray undershirt and worn-out dark blue pajama-bottoms, which were poking out from under the blanket. Snape's long, black hair was in sleepy disarray. Some of his hair was stuck to his forehead from light beads of sweat and some lay casually behind him on his pillow.

But when Harry ran into the room, Snape awoke with a start. His eyes flung open and he immediately sat up, fumbling for his wand in the darkness, which had been somewhere under his pillow. After Snape had found it, he moved his legs over the side of his bed from under his blanket to see Harry dashing toward him and stood up swiftly.

"What the hell—!"

"Black," Harry uttered hastily, still fumbling with his Conglomerate Stone. He knew Snape, whose wand was pointing toward the entirely open door, immediately understood. In his left hand was the Stone; his index finger could just reach around the side to touch the blue stone. With his right hand, he held his wand firmly with a sweaty palm.

Harry turned toward the door when he heard loud footsteps. Snape gripped Harry's right shoulder tightly with his cold, left hand. The dark form of Black had appeared just as he touched the stone. A second before they were pulled away, Snape yelled, "_Stupefy!_"

Harry watched as the bright red flash from Snape's wand illuminated the room around them and then Black's thin face and sunken eyes, which were staring intensely at him. Black moved quickly out of the way and it narrowly missed him.

Suddenly, the form of Black mixed into the darkness around him. The area around them became lighter as they landed in Dumbledore's dim, unoccupied office.

Both Snape and Harry toppled to the floor. Snape landed on his back as Harry landed on his side. Snape must have realized he was still holding onto Harry because he instantly let go.

The two of them got to their bare-footed feet with impeccable speed. Harry stowed his wand and Stone into his pockets. Snape had moved forward to look around the room, his wand still in his hand.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Snape asked.

Dumbledore wasn't sitting at his desk, but considering it was in the middle of the night, Harry couldn't blame him for not being there. The portraits of the previous headmaster and headmistresses, which hung on a nearby wall, were all fast asleep. Some were snoring lightly in their frames. The room was a lot darker than how he usually saw it; only a couple of candles were lit around the room instead of the usual torches.

Harry heard a light creaking from a door. But it wasn't a door that had moved. A bare space the same shape and size of a door between a bookcase and a rather tall portrait of a previous headmaster had moved back and then slid to the side to create an opening. Beyond it must be the Headmaster or Headmistresses sleeping quarters.

Dumbledore came out of the opening in a light blue house robe. It was obvious he had been sleeping; his eyes showed drowsiness, but at seeing the two of them, Dumbledore became suddenly alert.

"What happened?" he inquired quickly.

Once he was completely into the room, the wall behind him slid back into place. There were no cracks in the wall indicating the door, so Harry had never noticed it before.

"Black," stated Snape. "He found Potter."

Dumbledore glanced at Harry before looking back at Snape. "What exactly happened?" Dumbledore asked with a calm Harry could neither understand nor match. He was still shaking slightly.

"He Apparated," disclosed Harry. "I saw him."

Dumbledore sighed lightly as he looked around, touching his beard. "I can put Anti-Apparating wards up around the house, Severus, or you can stay here with Harry. Hogwarts will be safer after the Dementors arrive. I can ask Fudge to have them come early."

"It's your decision, Professor," said Snape. Harry was secretly wishing he wouldn't have to go back to Spinner's End, except to retrieve his trunk and Hedwig.

"I will put the wards up, then," said Dumbledore. There was a slight pause. "I'm sure by now Black will be gone. There would be no reason for him to stick around. And perhaps he might assume that I placed Harry somewhere else."

"Professor, I'd like a word," Snape announced. He glanced sideways at Harry, who was standing with his hands in his pajama-bottom pockets.

"Harry, please take a seat," Dumbledore muttered while looking at Snape. It was obvious Snape had something important he wanted to discuss with the headmaster about. He wondered if it was about Black.

Harry sat in one of the armchairs in front of Dumbledore's desk while his professor and headmaster moved toward the door to talk. He heard the distant whisperings of their voices as they spoke, but couldn't make anything definite out. At one point, Harry could have sworn he heard Snape say, "Lupin," but for what reason, he had no idea. He wasn't even sure he had heard it. It was late at night and his mind was wired from having seen Black at Snape's house, a place Dumbledore deemed Black would never go.

After a few minutes, Harry heard soft footsteps coming toward him. He turned to see Dumbledore wearing a light smile. "I must say, I'm very proud of you, Harry. It's not common for one to help someone they don't get along with, especially in a time of crisis," Dumbledore pointed out, as he looked him in the eye.

"I, honestly, don't even remember doing it, Professor," admitted Harry. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Snape looking at him. "It was more of an instinct. I didn't really think about it."

"Well, no matter how it happened, that was a very good deed," reasoned Dumbledore. He checked his watch before continuing. "I can see I won't be getting much sleep tonight. I'll have to inform the Ministry of Black's presence at your home, Severus, so I doubt you'll be getting much sleep tonight either." Snape simply nodded.

Harry watched as Dumbledore walked past him to sit behind his desk; he began to write a letter. Snape stood behind the other armchair, his arms folded. But then Snape turned to him and mouthed, "We are even."

Snape turned away and Harry was left staring at his greasy professor, wondering what the hell he meant. Even? Did his helping Snape even something out that had been lingering in Snape's mind? Harry thought back to what Snape had done for him and the first and only thing that came to mind was Snape's allowing him to stay at his house. He supposed Snape was right; Snape had saved Harry from Black, and now Harry had saved Snape from Black.

They were even.

Dumbledore stood up, a folded letter in his hand. He moved gracefully over to the beautiful phoenix, Fawkes, sitting on its perch. Fawkes took the letter and flew off out the open window. Dumbledore took his wand out from his robe pocket. "I'll create a Portkey for you, Harry."

Harry stood. "You don't have to, Professor," he said, fetching his Conglomerate Stone to show it.

"You have assigned one?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, Professor." He held the Stone in his right hand.

Dumbledore nodded to him. "We'll be using it to get to Spinner's End, then. It's rather too later, or rather early, to be Apparating, in my opinion. I hope you don't mind, Harry." Harry shook his head. "Good. Severus." He heard Snape take a few steps near him. Both men took hold of Harry's shoulders; Dumbledore gently holding onto his right shoulder with Snape gripping him painfully by the left.

Not two seconds after they landed in Snape's sitting room, did someone knock on the front door. Dumbledore walked over to answer it. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, walked through the door accompanied by half a dozen others, wearing badges that read "Hit Wizard."

"Ah, Dumbledore. Should've known you'd be here," Fudge remarked. The gray-haired manwore a lime green bowler hat with his black robe. Beneath his robe was a gray pinstriped waistcoat. "Always ready, aren't you?"

"Indeed, I am," muttered Dumbledore lightly.

Fudge looked around the dark sitting room and then turned to the Hit Wizards that were standing behind him. "You two search the house to see if he left or took anything. You four search the area outside. Stay alert."

The Hit Wizards separated, some leaving the house. Harry walked further into the sitting room and took a seat on the worn-out couch, knowing that he wouldn't be able to sleep until the Hit Wizards had left. He put his Conglomerate Stone in his right pajama-bottoms pocket before checking his watch, which said that it was close to four am.

"Are you still planning on having Mr. Potter stay here?" Fudge asked, glancing at Harry.

"At the moment, there is nowhere else he can go," answered Dumbledore. "I'll need to put Anti-Apparating wards up and a Foe-glass at the front door."

"Let my Hit Wizards do that. They're trained to do this kind of work," said Fudge as he looked at Dumbledore.

Harry's headmaster smiled kindly. "Of course."

There was another knock at the door. There was a moment where no one stirred, but then Snape moved to grab the handle. It was as if they all knew what was coming. A thin woman with blonde hair, wearing a bright purple cloak and high-heels to match stood in the doorway. The woman had a narrow smile upon her face and a large, purple quill in one hand with a piece of parchment upon a clipboard in the other.

"You're not allowed to be here, Skeeter," Fudge blurted to the woman, not too kindly.

Harry had been looking at Fudge and Skeeter talking, so it took him a moment to notice that Dumbledore was glancing at him. His headmaster nodded his head to Harry's left, which was in the direction of the stairs, and Harry understood that he should go upstairs and not be seen. From what he was seeing, this Skeeter woman seemed like bad news.

Harry got up from the couch and moved silently toward the stairs, hoping she wouldn't see him. As he walked, he heard Skeeter say, "I have a right to be here, Minister."

Fudge responded by saying, "Not while a search is in operation."

Harry got to the stairs without so much as a glance and went into his room. A young man in his early twenties with a Hit Wizard badge was looking around, holding his wand in his left hand as he held some sort of dark detector in his right. The man turned to him when he entered, and his eyes went immediately to his scar. The young man's body straightened slightly. "You're Harry Potter."

"Yes, I know," mumbled Harry unemotionally. He walked further into his room and then asked, "Did you find anything?"

"No. Nothing. Doesn't look like he took anything either," said the Hit Wizard. "You're uncle's a big reader though. He's got a hell of a lot of books, so I can't be sure Black didn't take one…thought I don't know why a murderer would take a book." With slightly flushed cheeks, he took one last glance around the room before putting his wand in his pocket. "Well, you can have your room back."

"Thanks," replied Harry simply. The young Hit Wizard gave him a small nod and then left the room. Harry closed the door behind him. With his Stone and wand still in his pockets, he turned thankfully to his bed. He sat down, comfortably, thinking about the image of Black's face ingrained in his mind: a picture of his red-tinted features as Snape threw a Stunning Spell was all he could see, as if someone was putting a photograph of the moment in front of him. Black's deep, dark eyes were clear in his mind, despite that his eyes were wide open.

After a while, Harry's eyes began to feel heavy, even though he wanted to stay as alert as possible in case Black decided to come back, but he couldn't stop his eyes from falling, his body from slumping, and his mind from traveling to a far-away place…

--

A warm hand was on Harry's arm, gently tapping him. He woke up and realized Dumbledore was standing near him. He instantly sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes gently. He grabbed his glasses and then turned toward his headmaster.

"What time is it, Professor?" Harry asked in a worn-out voice. He let out a small yawn.

"Nearly five in the morning. I'm sorry to wake you, Harry, but I just wanted you to know that the wards are up and a Foe-glass is at the front door," mentioned Dumbledore, who sat down at the edge of Harry's bed. "I was also wondering whether Professor Snape told you about the secret chamber that leads from the sitting room."

"Yeah, he did. I would've used it, but my wand was upstairs, and Black would have seen me go in there since he was in the sitting room. He was too close for it to be a hiding place. But, to be honest, I didn't really think of going into the secret chamber. I just knew I had to get away from Black."

"I understand," Dumbledore assured. "I just wanted to be certain. I'm glad you did what you thought was best and went with it. If you hadn't, who knows what would have happened. I want you to know that I'm very proud that you took Professor Snape with you when you could have let him to fend for himself. I'm sure he would have done quite fine; he's always been too talented with a wand for his own good, but you took him along with you even though you have a certain dislike for him. I respect that, Harry."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied genuinely. "That means a lot."

Dumbledore stood up from Harry's bed. "Oh, and I do hope you remember you're going to Diagon Alley with Professor Snape on Saturday." When Harry nodded, he added, "Goodbye, Harry."

"Bye, Professor."

--

The light that came through the small window was incredibly bright. It illuminated most of the room, making it appear more cheerful and even slightly larger. It must have rained while he had been asleep because the window had water droplets on it, but now the sky was a pale blue, looking calm like it always did after a storm.

Harry awoke to the calmer day, feeling only slightly rested because of the mid-night disturbance. As he turned on his right side, he felt an object pushing into his thigh. With his eyes still closed, he reached down and took his Conglomerate Stone from his pocket. He lay there for a moment, the Stone in his hand, as he waited for the moment when he would decide to get up.

About five minutes later, he finally opened his eyes and decided to get out of bed. Harry put on a Muggle t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of socks. He grabbed his Conglomerate Stone from his bed and went to his trunk.

When Harry flipped open the lid, he immediately saw the object that didn't belong. He just stared at it for a moment, wondering if it had been placed there by Sirius Black. It seemed like the only likely solution. Harry certainly hadn't put it there, and he knew Snape obviously hadn't.

Laying atop a pile of Harry's black robes was a small, folded piece of parchment that looked like it had been ripped from a larger piece. After placing his Conglomerate Stone in his trunk, he picked up the tiny note. Barely touching the parchment, as if it were contaminated, Harry unfolded the small paper.

_H.P._

_Meet me at 9 pm on the 10th of September where we had our first encounter. I'll be waiting._

_S.B._

His eyes scanned it quickly and he read it over numerous times.

Why did Black want to meet him? If he wanted Harry dead so badly wouldn't he just sneak in and get it over with? He wouldn't bother wasting time wanting to meet him. Of course, sneaking in hadn't worked the last time, but it still didn't make sense. Harry didn't understand. But perhaps there was more to Black's meeting with him that he knew. Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe Black wanted to duel Harry before killing him instead of just doing it quickly while he slept. Maybe it would give Black a greater feeling of power. Harry had no idea what thoughts ran through Black's maddened mind.

He also didn't fully comprehend why Black would go through all the trouble just to give Harry a note. Snape had almost Stunned him and the Ministry's Hit Wizards might have caught him. It didn't make any sense. But then again Black was crazy and had spent twelve years in Azkaban surrounded by Dementors. And who knows how badly those horrible creatures had affected his mind.

But as Harry re-folded the parchment, he kept a mental reminder of what day and time the note said. He would be meeting with Black. There was no doubt about that. He wasn't going to miss an open opportunity such as that. Even if he didn't announce his presence to Black, he would definitely go. Maybe after he could follow Black to his hideout, and know exactly where he stayed. He would be one-up on Black.

Harry liked the sound of that, and liked knowing he might have an advantage over the man trying to kill him.

**

* * *

**

Preview of Chapter 15—Amongst the Crowd:

Harry goes to Diagon Alley with Snape, and is met by Dumbledore, Lupin, Shacklebolt, Jones, and Fletcher, who will be protecting Harry in case Black shows, but they can't prevent talk of prophecies…


	15. Amongst the Crowd

"The art of prophecy is very difficult, especially with respect to the future."

-Unknown

**15**

**Amongst the Crowd**

There was a loud pounding on Harry's door, which woke him up very suddenly. It was exceptionally noisy, and the person on the other side seemed quite irritated. For a single moment, he thought it was Uncle Vernon, and then realized where he was. He grabbed his glasses, which sat beside his quiet Sneakoscope, and practically threw them onto his face, before going to open the door. He knew that if he hadn't opened the door just then, Snape probably would have knocked it down.

His professor stood there, looking angry. "We're going to be late! Hurry up and get dressed!"

"Late for what?" Harry inquired. "I thought we were just going to Diagon Alley." He yawned and his eyes teared at the sides.

"We're meeting the people that will be guarding you today. They're going to be there to make sure you're safe against Black," said Snape blatantly. "Now, get dressed!"

Harry gave Snape a reproachful look before closing the door. He got dressed into dark gray robes leisurely to intentionally piss Snape off. But as he got dressed he couldn't help but think about what Snape has said about the guards.

Why did he always have to be protected? Why did Dumbledore always have to make sure he was safe? Certainly Harry could take care of himself. He didn't need anyone to help him or protect him. And, frankly, he didn't want anyone to.

Before leaving, Harry took his canvas messenger bag to carry all his new supplies for school, the parchment that said everything he needed, his wand – he would never go anywhere without it no matter how protected he was –, and his Conglomerate Stone for a quick escape.

When he got to the sitting room, he saw Snape in one of the armchairs, waiting. "About time." Harry appeared as if he didn't know what he meant, but Snape gave him an incredulous glance.

Snape stood, taking a broken compass out of his pocket. The red arrow was pointing in the direction of the stairs as it moved slightly back and forth. Harry put his right index finger on the compass. He saw Snape glance at the clock on the layer of books.

Immediately after Snape turned back, Harry felt a pulling at every part of his body. Different shades of gray flashed before him and then other colors finally came into view. In time, his feet hit solid ground. Harry saw that he was in a crowded, slightly musty Leaky Cauldron. Stools and chairs of different sizes were crowded around tables of various shapes. With pictures hanging loosely and mildly lit lamps on the walls, the small room had a home-like feel.

"We almost missed our chance to get here, thanks to your insolent self," said Snape as he put the compass in his pocket.

Snape walked away to a large, round table in the back of the room where a couple of people were sitting, including Dumbledore. Harry followed. They were all looking at him curiously, as if he were some strange creature, so he looked around the room so as to avoid their stares.

"There are some people I would like you to meet, Harry," said Dumbledore as he stood. Harry turned to look at his headmaster. "You already know Professor Lupin," he said, motioning to Lupin, who smiled at him. "This is Kingsley Shacklebolt, Hestia Jones, and Mundungus Fletcher. They will be throughout the area, making sure you're safe. They will be, so to say, hiding in the shadows."

The three others Dumbledore mentioned, whom Harry had never met before, had nodded to him as Dumbledore said their names. Shacklebolt was a bald, black man, Jones was a pink-cheeked, black-haired woman, and Fletcher was a ginger-haired, unshaven man with baggy eyes. Just then, Fletcher took a pipe from his pocket and green clouds of smoke, which putridly smelled like burnt socks, began to emit from it.

"Dumbledore, I've told you to call me Mundungus 'Dung' Fletcher," said Fletcher with a lopsided smile.

"Shut up, _Dung_," Shacklebolt said in a deep voice.

"Professor, can't I walk with Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, glancing quickly at Lupin. A small smile had appeared on his face.

There was a moments pause from Dumbledore, as he seemed to be considering it. "I don't see why not. But Professor Snape will be with you." Harry nodded with a smile at the thought that he wouldn't have to walk with Snape alone. His father had been friends with Lupin and that was good enough for Harry.

Dumbledore looked around the Leaky Cauldron, surveying the room as if searching for something or someone. "Well, be on you're way," he said. "If you need me, you know how to reach me."

Harry left the Leaky Cauldron, following Snape and being followed by Lupin, Shacklebolt, Jones, and Fletcher. The wide alleyway of Diagon Alley was filled with people of all sorts. A loud buzzing of people talking consumed his ears, and he heard tidbits of random conversations as he whittled his way through. The air was exceedingly humid and the masses of people around him didn't help.

When the group found a less crowded area, they stopped. Jones said, "We'll split up now and keep an eye on you." Lupin nodded. But before Jones could walk completely away, Lupin said, "Keep on eye on Mundungus, too." Jones nodded and followed the two other guards, who had gone in separate directions.

"Where to, Harry?" Lupin asked.

"Gringotts, Professor," said Harry. "I need some money first."

The three of them made their way to the towering, slightly lopsided, white marble building of Gringotts in silence. They passed through the bronze front door as they went inside. A small angry-looking goblin took Harry's shiny key from him, and then showed them to a cart.

The three others, Harry saw, were standing near the entrance, waiting for them. Shacklebolt nodded to Lupin, who nodded back before climbing into the cart.

The cart rushed off so quickly Harry's hair flew back and he couldn't hear anything except the air rushing past him. A minute later, they reached Harry's vault. "Vault number 687," said the small goblin, which climbed out of the cart, grumbling for him to follow.

The key was placed into the keyhole and a loud click was heard as it unlocked. The goblin opened the vault door and the two men and Harry stepped in.

Golden, silver, and bronze flecks from the coins reflected off the large pile of money, dancing on their faces. Harry grabbed a bunch of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts before climbing back into the cart.

Ten minutes later, they were walking out of Gringotts, Harry's pockets now full. In the distance off to the left, he could see Fletcher, pretending to read the _Daily Prophet_. They made their way to Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions.

After being escorted in front of a mirror by Madam Malkin, Harry saw Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff from his year, standing in front of a mirror to his right. Lupin and Snape were standing a ways behind him, and a good distance from each other as they gave each other dirty looks. Harry could see their reflections in the mirror.

Macmillan nodded to him and Harry nodded back. "Potter, I heard about Black being after you," said Macmillan.

"Who hasn't?" Harry asked casually.

Macmillan let out a small laugh. "That's true," he said, but then he asked more seriously, "But is it true you've been in hiding somewhere?"

Harry turned away from Macmillan to glance into the mirror. Both professors weren't paying any attention to him: they were talking, but from the look on their faces it didn't seem like it was about the weather.

"Yeah, I've been in hiding. If I weren't, Black probably would've found me already, and I don't think you'd be talking to me right now."

Macmillan gave a small nod of understanding. "Well, I've been reading the _Daily Prophet_ over the summer. I don't know if you've been as well, you know, with being in hiding and all, but it was about why Black was after you," said Macmillan. Harry nodded somberly, which said without words that he had read the newspapers and knew what he was talking about. Macmillan added, "Is it all true?"

"You're asking me? The boy, who had no idea he was a wizard until two years ago?" Harry asked casually. There was a minor pause in his words. "I guess it must be true, but I've never talked to anyone about it.

Macmillan nodded again. "I think everyone forgets that you didn't know you were a wizard because everyone – witch and wizard – knows about you: the Boy Who Lived."

Harry nodded at Macmillan's words, glancing into the mirror. However, he wasn't looking at his professors, but at himself.

--

Harry and Ernie Macmillan said goodbye as they left Madam Malkin's since they had their robes finished around the same time.

"Where next, Harry?" Lupin asked, giving Snape a sideways glance.

Harry wiped the sweat that was forming on his forehead. "Flourish and Blotts."

pLuckily, Flourish and Blotts was the next store over to their left. Harry didn't know how much more unbearable heat he could take. Unfortunately, he would have to stay outside in the summer heat a minute longer because Draco and Mr. Malfoy were exiting the store.

Draco was carrying an armful of books and his father held his head high as they turned and walked into Knockturn Alley. Harry must have had a look of misery on his face, since he couldn't talk to his best friend, because Lupin asked curiously, "Don't like the Malfoy's?"

"No, that's not it at all. Draco's my best friend. I just haven't spoken to him in a long time."

Taken aback, Lupin muttered, "Oh, I see."

Harry followed Snape and Lupin into Flourish and Blotts to find all the books on his list. The three of them weren't in the store very long since Lupin had helped Harry find his books. Harry stuffed some coins into his pocket as they exited the store. When he looked up, the heat beginning to crawl uncomfortably around him, he saw Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor across the alleyway.

He turned to Lupin. "Could we…?" He nodded his head in the direction of the ice cream parlor. Lupin and Snape looked at each other quickly. Then Lupin looked at the crowd around them, searching for those in the shadow. When he looked at Harry, he said, "Sure. It is pretty hot out here."

As the three of them walked in the direction of the ice cream parlor, something impressive caught Harry's eye. He couldn't help but stop and stare. "Oh, brilliant!" he exclaimed.

In the glass, he saw Snape and Lupin's reflection turn to see what he was looking at. Harry marveled at the most beautiful racing broom he had ever seen. The wooden handle was smooth and highly polished, and the bristles of the broom were straight until the end, where they curved elegantly for better maneuvers.

A sign next to the fantastic broom on display said:

**THE FIREBOLT**

Made of ash wood and birch twigs.

It's the fastest racing broom yet with speeds up to 150

miles in just under 10 seconds! An unbreakable charm

is upon every broom, so the brakes won't be destroyed

in difficult circumstances. Price: upon request if asked.

"Sorry, Harry, but we shouldn't stay in one place for too long," said Lupin. Harry nodded and turned away from the window.

Snape, Lupin, and Harry walked into the ice cream parlor and were almost instantly cooled. The room was exactly opposite the heat outside: it was fresh and cool and slightly breezy. Harry rolled up the sleeves of his robes to feel the cool air against his forearms.

"What would you like?" Mr. Fortescue asked from behind the counter.

Harry looked at the numerous flavors undecidedly, but eventually decided on Rocky Road. Lupin got a Pistachio Almond ice cream cone. Both Harry and Lupin turned to look for Snape to see that he was already sitting at one of the tables, his arms folded over his chest.

Lupin and Harry, licking their ice creams cheerfully, sat at the table next to Snape's.

A few minutes of silence pervaded them. Harry had spent that time, looking at his new schoolbooks. He looked curiously at his Divination book. However, he didn't really know what Divination was.

"Professor, what _is_ Divination?" Harry asked of Lupin.

Lupin took a bite out of the cone before answering. "Divination is about the 'Inner Eye'," he said. His left hand – the one that currently held no ice cream – made a quoting gesture when he had said 'inner eye.'

"You mean like telling the future?" Harry asked. "Like seeing things before they happen?"

"Supposedly, if someone has the Inner Eye they predict the future by making prophecies. It's a rare gift, of course," said Lupin. Harry saw, out of the corner of his eye, Snape turn to look at Lupin as he spoke.

"Well, has anyone ever made a prophecy or been able to tell the future?" asked Harry, as he ate the last of his ice cream cone.

"I'm sure someone has. I've never met someone who could though or someone who's heard a prophecy. I doubt there are many people who have," Lupin said.

"So there must not be many made then," said Harry, almost as a question.

"I suppose not," said Lupin. "I think the last prophecy made was—"

"Enough! Let's stop the talk and get out of here," Snape said irritably. He stood up from his seat and walked toward the door. Harry and Lupin turned to look at each other before getting up as well.

They marched into the heat, turning right across the large street toward the Apothecary. It was a little shop, smelling strongly of both fresh grass and frogs. Around them were shelves of transparent jars, which contained a variety of the most random ingredients that could clearly be seen through the glass.

Harry went to collect the ingredients he had run low on for Potions, like hellebore, knotgrass, and nettles. Every now and then Snape would say that he needed some other ingredient, or that he had picked a "bad one" of that certain ingredient. And he was getting irritated by Snape's constant pestering.

"Just leave him alone, Snape. He doesn't know about potion ingredients like you do," said Lupin.

"Well he should, considering I've been teaching him for the past two years," Snape said coldly, giving Harry a dark look.

"Maybe if you actually instructed me on how to make the potions instead of yelling at my mistakes, I'd actually learn something," Harry replied angrily. Snape simply turned on his heel and went to examine some jars on the other side of the store.

"Don't let him get to you, Harry," said Lupin. "He does it on purpose."

"I know," Harry said annoyed. "Snape's been bothering me ever since I stepped foot in Hogwarts."

"I hate to say it, but it's the family resemblance," said Lupin. His new professor gave him a small but warm smile.

"I can tell. He's constantly telling me I'm like my father. It's never been in good context though."

"Don't listen to him. He's slightly prejudiced."

"Why?" Harry asked. He knew about the trick played on Snape that almost led to his demise, but perhaps there was more he didn't know about.

"That's not important anymore."

"Well, if Snape—"

"Professor Snape," Lupin interjected.

"If Professor Snape will be constantly annoying me, maybe it would be best if I knew more information about him," said Harry, a small smile creeping at the sides of his mouth.

A smile broke onto Lupin's face as he shook his head slightly. "You know, you're father used to come up with witty remarks just like that."

Harry's smile widened. Lupin had told him before how his father had been a good person, but he never had anything to say to Lupin that would make him more content. But then he thought of it.

"Professor, I have a picture of you, my father, Pettigrew, and Black."

Lupin's face seemed to light up. "You do? Is there a year on the back?"

"Yes. 1978."

"I remember when that picture was taken and I remember it was about a year shy of your parents wedding."

"I have a couple pictures of the wedding, too."

"Could I see them when we get to Hogwarts?" Lupin asked.

Harry opened his mouth to say that he would, but Snape cut in. "So sorry to break up the memory-fest, but we're overstaying our welcome," Snape spat coldly.

After buying the bunch of ingredients, Harry and his two professors went toward their final destination – the Leaky Cauldron. Lupin and Snape were walking in front of him en route for the pub. Harry stopped to put some sickles and knuts into his robe pocket.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a large, black dog. He took his hand out of his pocket and glanced around the area in front of him in search of the animal. Had he really just seen the dog that had been at the Dursley's twice? How could the animal have gotten here? But Harry couldn't find it amongst the crowd.

He also couldn't find Lupin and Snape, both of whom had disappeared from view into the swarm of people. He suddenly felt a hand grip the top of his right arm tightly and push him forward…

**

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Preview of Chapter 16—

Back Among Friends:

The ending of the day at Diagon Alley, and Harry finally boards the Hogwarts Express, meeting Ron, Hermione, Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle...


	16. Back Among Friends

"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."

-Anais Nin

**16**

**Back Among Friends**

Suddenly, a hand gripped the top of Harry's right arm tightly.

Shock filled him, and his eyes opened slightly wider as he felt the man put another hand on his back to push him forward. How could Black be here among all these people and not be seen? Surely somebody would notice him. Surely someone would see what was going on. Had Black put a spell upon himself to look different? Was that why no one was taking any care to notice?

But Harry turned his head over his right shoulder to see the person – it was Kingsley Shacklebolt. Relief swept over him, and he allowed Shacklebolt to meander him toward the Leaky Cauldron.

When he got inside, Lupin and Snape hurried over at seeing them enter. "What happened?" Lupin asked quickly, his eyes glancing over Harry to Shacklebolt.

"Potter stopped to put something in his pocket and the two of you walked too quickly for him to follow," said Shacklebolt in his deep voice. "He looked pretty worried."

Shacklebolt, who had the whole time while talking been holding his arm, finally released it. "I wasn't worried! I…I thought I saw something," replied Harry.

The door opened to the Leaky Cauldron and the two other lookouts came in. Jones, who looked rather irritated, was pushing Fletcher forcibly from behind; Jones had her wand in her right hand.

"He was trying to steal something from an old woman," said Jones, her cheeks were red from the heat. "I guess he thought it was valuable. Something he'd sell later on." She pushed him roughly forward.

"Oi! Don't push me!" exclaimed Fletcher. "I wasn't going to do anything!"

Jones and Fletcher began to argue about the fact that Fletcher should have been watching Harry, not trying to rob little old ladies. Jones was also upset at the fact that because she had to get him, she couldn't keep a better eye on Harry.

As the two of them argued, Lupin drew closer to Harry to ask, "What did you think you saw?"

"It sounds stupid, but…a large, black dog," said Harry. He watched Jones and Fletcher, who were still arguing despite the fact that Shacklebolt had put a Silencing Charm on Fletcher. He continued, "I've seen the dog before."

A look of shock and worry appeared on Lupin's face, but Harry had no idea why. It was just a dog he had seen. "Harry, where have you seen this dog previously?"

"He was at my aunt and uncle's house twice," Harry replied.

"Do you remember the first day you initially saw the dog?"

"Of course. How could I forget? It was two days before I was taken to Spinner's End," said Harry. "July 14th."

Lupin stood up straighter and nodded to Harry. He then motioned toward Snape, who walked closer. "I think you both should leave. Now."

"What's the reason? If there's something you know, Lupin, you should spread the information. Especially if it concerns Black and _lovely_ little Potter," Snape uttered. Harry gave him a dark look for calling him that, but Snape didn't turn toward him.

"It's not something you need to know," said Lupin. He said to Harry, "Harry, I'll see you in a couple of days. Stay safe until then." Harry nodded.

The Conglomerate Stone was in his pocket, so he took it out. Harry was ready to return to dim and gloomy Spinner's End, but Snape didn't look as if he had finished his conversation with Lupin.

"I'll leave when I want to leave, Lupin," said Snape coldly, glaring at him.

"I think you should leave now, Snape, because the longer Harry's here, the more unsafe he is," said Lupin, giving Snape a mean look. "And you wouldn't want Dumbledore to know you kept Harry out longer than necessary." It was clear that Lupin didn't want to be intentionally nasty, but wanted to get Harry back into safety. Though Harry didn't like being treated like a child, he appreciated Lupin's protection.

Snape's lip curled unpleasantly as he moved leftward toward Harry. His professor gripped his right shoulder tightly, and Harry pressed the white stone. He gave one last smile to Lupin before everything became a mix of color and nothing seemed solid. And too soon were they standing in Snape's dark sitting room.

--

"Wake up, Potter! You're not the only one, who has to get to Hogwarts!" called Snape from the other side of the door.

It was morning of September 1st – finally, in Harry's opinion. He was too pleased to be leaving Snape's house for good. Now, he would be on his way to Hogwarts.

Harry got out of bed in a rush, grabbed his glasses, and moved to his trunk to put a black robe on. He then went around the room, snatching various books, robes, and other items that had been left randomly around the room. When all inanimate objects had been placed inside his trunk, he took Hedwig from atop the dresser and carefully put her inside her cage. He placed his wand in his pocket.

He grabbed the handle of his trunk and held Hedwig's cage as he went down the stairs into the sitting room. At the moment it was empty, but two minutes later, Snape came down the stairs. He was holding a large, black luggage bag with two big pockets in the front.

Snape walked toward Harry, taking out a book in disrepair. The front cover was off, pages were ripped and turning yellow, and a whole section of the book had been pulled out.

As he watched the clock, Snape lazily told Harry to take hold of his arm. Quickly, Harry moved Hedwig's cage underneath his left arm as he held his trunk's handle with his left hand. His right hand held Snape's left forearm.

Harry heard Snape mutter something under his breath. All the lights in the house went out and he heard numerous clicks as the doors and windows locked by magic. _Thanks for the warning_, Harry thought sarcastically. He looked straight ahead of him, his eyes seeing nothing but pitch-black darkness.

Suddenly, he experienced a tugging and everything felt like it was rushing past him. His body felt rigid and his hand felt as if it were glued to Snape's arm.

Bright lights came into view as Harry's feet hit the ground. He instantly let go of Snape. They were in an empty area of Kings Cross Station in London, but not near the right platforms.

Without talking, the two of them walked toward platforms nine and ten. Harry lugged his massive trunk along behind him as he carried Hedwig's cage. Every now and then, she gave off a little hoot. Harry checked his watch to see that they had fifteen minutes until eleven am. And only a couple of minutes later did they go through the barrier onto platform 9 ¾.

Where before there had hardly been any noise or people, there was now an unbelievable amount of commotion. There were tons of students moving quickly as they hugged parents and younger siblings and then ran onto the Hogwarts Express. The sound of the train letting off steam every now and then surged to his ears, as did the sound of people yelling to each other from across the platform.

They both got onto the train, but went their separate ways. Snape went towards the front of the front of the train to go into the first compartment. Harry, still holding his trunk, went down the narrow corridor, bumping into another student now and again.

It seemed like he searched the whole train for Draco and the other Slytherins, but he couldn't find them. After some time, Harry opened a compartment door and saw Ron sitting alone as he held his rat Scabbers.

"Hiya, Ron!" he exclaimed cheerfully.

"Hey, Harry!" said Ron with a smile. "Come sit."

"Where's Hermione and Longbottom?"

"Got lost in the crowd. I'm sure they'll be here soon." Ron held his hand out with some food on it for Scabbers to eat.

Harry pulled his trunk further into the compartment, placing Hedwig's cage upon it.

"Where's your pal Snape?" Ron asked. "I know that you both had a great time during the summer."

"Oh, I had a jolly ol' time!" said Harry jokingly. He laughed a little and Ron joined in.

Ron took out two chocolate frogs. "Want one?"

"Sure." The chocolate tasted wonderful – warm, sweet, and delicious. They were both eating their pieces of chocolate and didn't say anything for a moment. Harry watched as Scabbers ate a bit of chocolate Ron had broken off. He looked closely at Ron's pet and realized that Scabbers had missing patches of hair. "What was Egypt like?"

"It was brilliant! Bill showed us different tombs. Some of the Muggle skeletons had more than one head or had too many limbs. Some of it was kind of gross, but there was still gold buried in there," explained Ron, chocolate stuffed in his mouth. "Fred and George tried to push one of the skeletons on Percy, but my mum caught them."

Ron and Harry laughed. The compartment door opened; Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom came in. Harry surveyed Hermione as she brought her trunk in: he saw that she was somewhat taller and her face seemed longer, her cheeks thinner, and her overall appearance more mature. Although he didn't know Longbottom very well, he noticed that he looked taller as well, but not by very much.

"There you are. We've been looking for you," Hermione said to Ron. She then saw Harry; a smile appeared. "Harry! How've you been?"

"Good. You?"

"Perfectly fine," she said as she sat down next to Ron. Longbottom sat next to Harry, but seemed to be keeping his distance. "Ron told me where you were staying over the summer. I can't believe you were there the _entire_ summer. No one likes him, especially you."

"Where'd you stay?" Longbottom asked, turning to him.

"Unfortunately, with Snape," said Harry, looking at the boy next to him. A look of shock and fright appeared on Longbottom's pudgy face.

"I don't understand why Dumbledore would make you stay with him. Why not Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"Dumbledore supposed that since Black was intending me to be at Hogwarts, I shouldn't stay there. I figured out that staying at Snape's was safe because Black and Snape don't like each other," said Harry. "Apparently, they had gone to school together and had never gotten along very well. Lupin had gone to school with them, too."

"Who's Lupin?" Longbottom asked, mostly of Ron and Hermione.

Ron answered, "New Dark Arts teacher."

"So does Lupin seem like a good teacher?" Hermione inquired, highly curious, her eyes widening slightly.

"Yeah. He's really friendly and just by talking to him you know he's a kindhearted person," Harry replied, nodding.

"If they hated each other in school, d'you think—?" Ron asked.

The compartment door opened to a shabby-robed man with light brown hair, who was holding a black suitcase.

"Hello, Harry," Lupin said, standing in the compartment doorway.

"Hello, Professor," Harry said to Lupin. To everyone else, he said, "This is Professor Lupin." He then glanced back at Lupin before saying, "This is Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom," as he indicated each person.

"Nice to meet each of you," Lupin said cheerfully. Ron nodded, chocolate in his mouth, Hermione said it was a pleasure to meet him as well, and Longbottom just grinned. "Well, I'll let you get back to your conversation. I should find myself a compartment. See you at the feast."

Professor Lupin closed the compartment door, and they heard him walk away.

"He seems nice," Hermione muttered.

"Enough about Lupin, I want to know about when Harry met Black," Ron said, moving on the seat to get closer to Harry.

"You what?!" Hermione exclaimed, looking sternly at Harry.

"Didn't I tell you that?" Ron asked, looking sideways at Hermione.

"No! You failed to mention that!" Hermione shouted, fuming though worried.

"Oh," said Ron, his ears turning red. "Well, now you know."

Hermione gave Ron a dark look before turning her attention to Harry. "You met with Black, Harry? It was an accident, right?"

"No. I followed him," stated Harry. "He was on the school grounds."

"Wait," said Hermione. "How did you get to Hogwarts when you were at Snape's?"

"Snape was gone, and eventually I decided to leave too. After I went to the Three Broomsticks, I went onto the school grounds—" started Harry.

"How'd you get to school? Can you Apparate?" Longbottom asked, eyes wide.

"I have a Conglomerate Stone," Harry replied. (Hermione mumbled, "You can't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds.") "Anyway, I was looking at the Black Lake, when I heard someone running. I saw it was Black, so I followed him."

"What did you say to each other?" Ron asked, looking at him very intently.

"Well, honestly, I don't really remember. It happened very fast. I recall he tried to talk to me about my parents, but I didn't want to listen to anything he had to say. But you know what was weird? Black said he hadn't killed Pettigrew."

Scabbers suddenly let out a small squeak. Ron massaged the rat's back to keep him quiet. "Come on, Harry! The bloke's mad! He'd been in Azkaban for twelve years; being around those Dementors have got to rattle your brain somewhat. He probably doesn't even remember what he did earlier that day."

"That's what I told him, but it seems odd that someone can forget what landed them in prison in the first place, despite that fact," articulated Harry.

"Don't think too much on it, Harry," instructed Hermione. "It's not worth it."

Harry stayed with Ron, Hermione, and Longbottom for almost two hours, but decided it was time to go looking for Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle. He made an excuse to leave, though he knew they knew where he was going, and left the compartment. Seven compartments down, he found his Slytherin friends.

Draco, his best friend, looked taller even when sitting, though his silver blond hair was shorter. Blaise also looked taller and the intensely small curls that made up his dark brown hair were longer. Crabbe and Goyle looked more muscular; their arms seemed bigger and their chests more built, which only made them look wider and shorter.

"Harry!" exclaimed Draco, there was a smile on his pale face.

"Hiya, Harry," Blaise said excitedly. Crabbe and Goyle nodded to him as they sat there.

"Where the hell have you been?" Draco questioned.

Harry dragged his trunk into the compartment. Crabbe and Goyle helped him heave it up. He then sat down between Draco and Blaise. Draco lightly punched his shoulder and quietly muttered, "I missed you, mate."

"That's oh so sweet, Draco," Harry said jokingly, turning to look at Draco.

"You know what I mean – the manor, my father." Draco turned slightly pink, but it quickly disappeared.

"Yeah, I know. I wish I had been there, too," Harry replied. He waited for someone to ask where he had been staying and surely enough…

"So where the hell was Dumbledore keeping you?" Blaise asked. "Malfoy wrote to me and said you had been taken by him and the Minister, but didn't know where to."

"You won't believe where I was taken. I stayed at…Snape's house."

The other four burst into fits of laughter. He could hear Crabbe and Goyle's "huh, huh, huh's." At one point, Draco was holding his stomach. "Snape's? Are you bloody serious?" Draco asked.

"Are you joking, Harry?" Blaise asked.

"I'm not joking. I had to stay with him the _entire summer_," said Harry, leaning back against the seat. "Dumbledore also gave me rules to follow, so I wasn't allowed to go out or write letters. I was stuck in a house with a person I loathe. It's been bloody awful!"

"You're not joking," Blaise said. "I thought you were."

"Why would Dumbledore bring you there?" Draco asked. "Is there a reason Black wouldn't go there, but would come to my place?"

"Apparently, Snape and Black don't like each other; haven't since school, seeing as they went to Hogwarts together, along with Lupin, our new Dark Arts teacher. I already met him," explained Harry.

"How'd you meet Lupin already?" Goyle asked in his gruff voice.

"His interview with Dumbledore took place at Snape's." The others nodded, taking in the information. Harry asked, "So, how were your summer's? Better than mine I presume?"

For a while they all spoke about what they had done over the summer, Blaise taking the longest since he had gone to Italy for a whole month. At one point, the trolley came and they bought tons of candy to split between them.

As the others delved into the small pile and began unwrapping the treats, Harry smiled. He was finally on his way to Hogwarts with his friends, and it had taken the quiet after the trolley's arrival for him to finally grasp that. Pleased, he opened a Pumpkin Pastry and took a bite as he rested his right ankle in his left thigh, and grinned./p

**

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Preview of Chapter 17—Strange Occurrences:

Not all is full of cheer when a Dementor comes aboard the train; then Harry notices a creature attached to the carriage that no one else can see, and the third years meet Professor Trelawney, who might actually be telling the truth…


	17. Strange Occurences

"Lately it's occurred to me what a long strange trip its been."

-Anonymous

**A/N:** You would do well to take note of what Harry and Draco see in each other's cups in Divination. They may be revealing more than you think./p

**17**

**Strange Occurrences**

The sky outside was beginning to turn dark, a mixture of purples and yellows with an overwhelming amount of navy as the sun made its descent below the horizon. Lights flicked on along the narrow corridor and in the separate compartments. Students were getting dressed into their school robes, knowing that in a few hours they would be at the castle of Hogwarts.

The talking Harry and the others had been doing had changed to laugher, and then planning. They had played a few rounds of Exploding Snap before moving onto planning pranks. They had come up with a few tricks to pull on people later on in the year; the thrill of it was getting to them just by thinking about it. They also decided they would try to do some more exploring around the castle at night.

"For the past two years, we said we'd explore the castle, but things've always come up," said Draco. "We _have_ to use your Invisibility Cloak, Harry, and do some searching."

"I'm all for it," Harry replied. He then whispered to Draco, "And remember what we started last year? We have to continue with that. We have to keep getting more information. I think by next year, maybe even this year, we'll be able to make our first transformations."

Draco nodded vigorously, a smirk forming on his lips. "Absolutely."

"Oh, by the way, I can't legally go to Hogsmeade," Harry told Draco. "My uncle couldn't sign the form because I was at Snape's."

"Snape could've signed it. He was guarding you, wasn't he?" Draco said.

"Yeah, but he's not my real guardian."

"That's definitely a good thing," said Draco. "Well, forget about it. The legalities have never stopped you before. Just use your cloak and the tunnels. It's no big deal."

Harry nodded before turning to gaze out of the window. It was becoming dusk now. In less than fifteen minutes, the sun would disappear and only darkness would be left.

For some reason the Hogwarts Express began to slow. Harry and Draco turned to look at each other, knowing they couldn't be near Hogwarts yet. A minute later the train came to a complete stop. Out of nowhere, the lights went out and they were left in darkness. All talking and laughing stopped, and all they could hear was Goyle's heavy breathing. A chill ran through Harry, as it got considerably colder.

"What's going on?" Draco asked quickly.

"Why's it so cold in here?" Blaise inquired.

Getting up, Harry made his way through the darkness toward the compartment door. He opened it and could hear other people doing so as well. He could just make out the silhouettes of a couple of people nearby.

"I'll go see what's wrong," Harry said, closing the compartment door. As he walked slowly in the direction of the front of the train, he kept his left hand against the wall, which felt cool to the touch, to keep his balance. He knew he had gone past a couple of compartments because he felt the cracks of the doors against his fingertips.

Suddenly, someone walked headlong into him. They both grunted in pain. Harry put his right hand to his forehead. "Who is that?" he asked.

"Ginny Weasley," the girl said. "Who're you?"

"It's Harry," he said. "Do you know what's going on?"

"Oh, hi, Harry," Ginny replied nervously. "Err…no. I asked the conductor with some others, but he told us to go back to our compartments."

"All right," Harry said. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"Do you know your way back?"

"Yeah, it's right here," Ginny said, opening a compartment door.

"Okay. Bye."

Harry, his hand still along the wall, turned and went back. When he found the compartment, he opened the door and went in. He thought it was odd that Draco didn't ask immediately what had happened, but he sat down anyway. The air around him was still cold.

"I don't think anything's wrong, Draco," Harry said, "but I'm sure we'll find out what's going on later."

"Harry?" a familiar voice asked.

"Professor Lupin?"

The lights flickered back on. Harry saw Lupin sitting opposite him near the window, his cloak over him like a blanket. Lupin must have been sleeping because when he turned Harry saw his eyes were droopy and he looked weary.

"The train stopped?" Lupin asked.

"Yeah. I don't know why though. All the lights went out too," Harry said.

Lupin took the cloak off, placing it unevenly beside him. He stood up and made his way to the compartment door. "You should go back to your compartment, Harry. I'm going to see what's happening."

After his professor left, Harry went back to the correct compartment. Draco immediately asked, "So what's going on?"

"I don't know. I ran into someone, but she said the conductor wouldn't tell her anything. And then I came across Lupin, but—"

Harry, who had been standing, fell sideways into the seat, almost crashing into Crabbe. As a loud whistle sounded, the train had started once more and the lights came on. Harry sat more comfortably in the seat.

"Finally," said Blaise. "I'm starving. I wanna get to that feast."

"Me, too. I feel like some chicken," said Goyle. Crabbe nodded beside him.

Suddenly, again, the lights went out, but the train continued onward. Cold air hung around them, like unseen but mischievous smoke, and it was only getting more intense.

The compartment door slid open slowly. Harry shivered violently, turning his head. An immense feeling of unhappiness filled him. His chest felt hollow and not a single happy or hopeful thought ran through his mind. As the door opened, a tall, robed figure appeared as a black silhouette against the darkness.

The figure moved closer toward Harry, who inhaled chilled air. It drew ever closer toward him, taking in a low, unsettling breath. Unexpectedly, a detached feeling came over Harry as if he were the only one in the room and the gasps coming from the others sounded distance and muffled. As he sat there, staring fixedly at the figure, a new, vivid sound arose from somewhere near him.

It was the sound of a woman screaming. But it was the last thing he heard before his vision closed in on him…

"Is he going to be all right?" a voice asked.

Harry opened his eyes to find he was laying down on one of the compartment seats. Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle were squeezed together on the seat opposite him, and Lupin, who was kneeling down near him, was looking at him warily.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"Remember those Dementors I was telling you about?" Lupin asked. He got up from kneeling to stand. Harry sat up in his seat. That's when he saw Snape standing outside the doorway of the compartment, his arms folded over his chest. Draco moved so he was sitting next to Harry. "Well, you just met one."

"That was a Dementor?" Harry asked.

Lupin nodded, handing him a piece of chocolate. "Here. This'll make you feel better."

Harry took the chocolate as he said, "Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," said Draco, looking at him.

"I just felt awful. I thought I'd never be happy again," said Blaise from across from him.

"But what happened?" Harry asked tensely, looking at the others. "I don't remember blacking out."

"You…you went very stiff. You just stared at the Dementor, and then you fell to the floor," said Draco. "You were practically seizuring."

The compartment went very quiet. His friends were watching him. Finally, Lupin said, "Harry, you should eat the chocolate. Professor Snape and I are going to the front."

Lupin left the compartment, walking down the narrow hall. Snape glanced at him with his dark eyes before following Lupin. Blaise got up and closed the door.

"What happened to the Dementor?" Harry asked. He then took a bite of the chocolate. A warm feeling came over him as he consumed the treat.

"Well, we heard someone running over," explained Draco, "and then we saw this silvery ghost-like thing hit the Dementor, so it trailed away from us. By then you were lying on the ground. Just as the new professor came in, Snape appeared at the compartment door. They were kind of arguing with each other, but Lupin picked you up and put you on the seat. "

"When did you mates come to?" Harry asked.

The others looked at each other quickly. "We didn't. None of us blacked out. Only you," said Blaise. "Malfoy was shaking a lot though."

Harry nodded and looked at the floor. Why was he the only one that had blacked out? Why did the Dementor affect him much more than it affected the others? Was he…weak? And who did he hear scream if Draco said no one had?

For the remainder of the journey to Hogwarts, they barely spoke. They only sat there for the remainder of the journey, starting out of the window and eating whatever candy they had left.

When the Hogwarts Express finally came to a stop at the Hogsmeade station, they were starving, despite the fact they had eaten loads of treats. Harry followed Draco down the corridor, making his way outside.

"Firs' years this way!" Hagrid bellowed at the end of the platform. He was wearing his usual overcoat as he beckoned for the new students to follow him. The tall man turned and saw him, giving him a smile. Draco, Blaise, Harry, Crabbe, and Goyle made their way off the platform to the grass, where there were about a hundred stagecoaches.

Tied to the stagecoach they were about to enter was an almost horse-like creature, but it looked very unlike a horse. Its body was skeletal and it had large, leathery black wings. It had a mane like a horse, which was black, but its face looked almost dragon-like. As Harry stared at it in a mixture of curiosity and slight horror, the creature turned to look at him with all white eyes.

"What is that thing?" Harry inquired.

"What thing?" Blaise asked, turning his head to look in the direction Harry was.

"That – that horse thing that's pulling the carriage."

"Harry, nothing's pulling the carriage. There's nothing there," said Draco, who opened the stagecoach door. "Come on."

Just before climbing inside, Harry could have sworn he saw a blonde girl with red earrings petting one of the odd creatures, but when he squinted to get a better look, she was getting into a carriage.

Harry didn't feel any better about how this day was turning out. It was just like last year. Not only was he hearing things the others hadn't, but also he was seeing things other people couldn't. However, this time there was no diary. This time it was all him.

Harry stared blankly out of the small window as the carriage began to move up the hill toward an iron gate. Beside the two winged boars were two Dementors.

He moved further into the carriage, not wanting to look at them.

When the carriages finally stopped, they all got out. The carriage beside them had opened its door, letting out Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny. Draco gave them a dark look before walking ahead of him.

Ron and Hermione were watching him. Ron gave him a small, almost forced smile, and Harry figured they knew what had happened to him. Hermione mouthed, "Are you okay?" Harry nodded and they all proceeded up the steps into the Entrance Hall, and then into the candle-lit Great Hall.

After they were all settled, the first years came in, frightened and nervous, but soon they were welcomed into their Houses. Dumbledore stood, announcing Lupin, who smiled from his seat, as their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and revealed that the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher was Hagrid, who smiled and waved animatedly.

--

Monday morning arrived all too quickly for Harry. He hadn't slept the whole weekend because of the Dementor. He had been thinking about the woman's scream so much that he had dreamed about it and he had woken up numerous times with an echo of her cries in his mind.

"Harry, you're going to be late if you don't start getting dressed," said Draco. Harry could hear him through the curtains as his friend zipped his trousers and began tying his shoes. Throwing the blanket off of himself, Harry gave a sigh before sitting up and getting out of bed. He grabbed his glasses and practically threw them on his face before going to his trunk to find some clothes.

About twenty minutes later, after getting their schedules, Harry, Draco, and Blaise were staring at a trapdoor, dumbfounded. They turned to look at each other. "How the hell do we get up there?" Blaise asked.

Out of nowhere, the trapdoor opened and a ladder fell from it. Harry looked at the two others before proceeding up first. When he had climbed all the way and took a step forward, he saw he was in the most peculiar room he had ever been in. It looked more like a teashop rather than a classroom, considering there were long drapes over the windows, making the room dimmer. Shelves around the room held crystal balls, tons of teacups, and many half-used yellowish candles. Instead of the usual two-person tables, there were about twenty round tables situated all over.

As Harry walked further in to take a seat at one of the tables with Draco and Blaise, he became slightly light-headed. There was an overwhelming scent of perfume and the room was over-heated because the fireplace was lit.

Harry glanced around the room, seeing that some other students were doing so as well. He was completely mesmerized by how different it looked, and found that Ron, Hermione, and Neville were sitting at a table nearby.

"Welcome to Divination," said a voice to which there was no body.

Suddenly, a thin woman, wearing large glasses, a shawl covered in sequins, and numerous bangles, came out of the shadow. The woman looked around the room. At one point her gaze moved to Harry, who saw that her eyes looked magnified by the spectacles she wore.

"My name is Professor Trelawney…"

Her bug-like gaze moved over each student as she said slowly, "In this class, you will be studying the art of Divination. It is a difficult art, much more difficult than the other classes you are taking because here you will be using your _Inner Eye_. Books and charms will only take you so far. It is yourself that will be the most important aspect of the class. If you can look deep within yourself and allow your mind to connect to your world on a deeper level, you will be able to tell the future. Only a few have the Gift. We shall soon see who."

Harry and Draco turned to look at each other, skeptical.

"You," Trelawney said, looking fixedly at Seamus Finnigan, "what does your mother do?"

Finnigan just stared back for a moment before saying, "Works for the Ministry of Magic."

"Only until the middle of October," she said. Finnigan looked at Thomas, who was sitting next to him, with a fearful look.

"This term will be devoted to the reading of tea leaves. If all goes well, we will proceed to palmistry, fire omens, and finally…the crystal ball," Trelawney explained. She then turned to Blaise. "You will be receiving an important letter from your mother in March." Blaise looked at Harry and Draco, who both shrugged.

"Dear," she said to Ron, whose cheeks suddenly became red, "could you get me the largest silver teapot." Harry saw the relief on his face as he got up to retrieve it. When he handed it to her, she stopped him. "Be careful on the night of Halloween. You might do well to scream."

"W-what?" Ron asked, the relief leaving him completely. His eyes widened, but Trelawney didn't seem to hear him, so he went back to his table.

"Divide into pairs, collect a teacup from the shelf and I'll fill it for you," said Trelawney. "Only the dregs are necessary, so drink until they are the only things left. When you have done this, swish it around the cup three times with your left hand. Afterwards, turn your cup upside down on the saucer and then hand it to your partner. Write down the interpretations you find on page five and six. I want you all to be reading your partner's cups in ten minutes."

Once Harry and Draco had completed the first tasks of drinking and swishing and switching, they gazed carefully into their partners cups. "You go first," Draco said.

"Err…okay," Harry said, still looking into the cup. "I see a cross, which means…suffering." He turned the cup over. "It's a…large animal of some sort. An elephant, that's what it is. That means wisdom. There's more: an hourglass and…it's a wavy line. The first means you have to decide something and the second means you have an uncertain path. So you're going to suffer and not know what to do but be smart."

"I'm already smart," Draco said pompously. He then looked into the cup. "Okay. There's a small animal. Looks like a dog…means a good friend. Me, of course," Draco said with a smile at Harry before turning the cup. "I see an eye, which means caution…and there's a cap. That means trouble. Hmm…yours doesn't look so good, Harry," his best friend said, still looking closely into the cup. He turned it more. "Wait, there's more. I think it's a…oh. It's a knife. That's means broken friendship, and there's also this big thing—"

"Let me see, dear." Trelawney suddenly appeared. Draco almost dropped the teacup. She took it from him, looking over it carefully. "There's a very prominent eye at the top, so you would do well to be cautious. And…_dear me!_" Trelawney then let out a scream. The class immediately turned to look at her as all talking ceased.

"What? What is it?" Harry asked, trying to look into the cup, but his professor pulled it away as her gaze fell back upon the cup.

"My dear," she said, turning to look at Harry quickly. "The Grim."

"The what?" Harry asked. Draco handed him the book, looking solemn. He read the passage aloud, " 'The Grim takes the form of a giant, shadowy dog. It is an omen of…of death.'"

A bunch of students gasped loudly as Lavender Brown and Pansy Parkinson covered their mouths with their hands.

Harry suddenly felt sick. He had seen a giant dog three times already./ppAs Harry left Trelawney's room to go down to Transfiguration, he heard a voice behind him. "Beware of the Grim, Mr. Potter." He turned to see Trelawney looking at him with large eyes. He turned away quickly to leave the room, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

--

Annoyingly, Draco and Blaise went on about the Grim and how serious it was all through Transfiguration and lunch, so Harry was pleased the day was nearly at an end as he made his way toward Hagrid's hut for their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson. He held his The Monster Book of Monsters, which was being closed shut by his old belt. Draco's had thick rope wrapped around it, but continued to growl.

A number of students were already gathered near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid came out of his little house as Harry, Draco, and Blaise got to the back.

"Great. Now's its time to learn from the slow-minded oaf," Draco mumbled to Blaise, who chuckled.

"Gather 'round," said Hagrid. "Come on. Don' be shy. Good. Now yeh have teh open yer books so we can—"

Beside him, Draco said, "How do we open our books?"/pp "Yeh don' know how teh open yer books? None of yeh?" Hagrid asked. He borrowed Boot's book before saying, "Yeh have to _stroke_ 'em. Watch closely." He ran a finger down the spine of the book, which shuddered before falling open in Hagrid's hands.

"I should've known to stroke it! How foolish of me!" Draco said rather loudly.

"Draco, just shut up," Harry said without turning.

"Right then. Stay 'ere, and I'll get teh magical creatures," said Hagrid, who sprinted off into the forest.

"How could Dumbledore hire a buffoon like him as a teacher?" Draco said to Harry and Blaise. "Honestly, him? Everyone knows he likes more _uncommon_ creatures. We'll all be dead by the end of the year." Blaise laughed louder this time; Harry remained quiet.

Not a minute later, half a dozen creatures called Hippogriffs crept forward toward the group of students, which looked like a mixture of an eagle, a griffin, and a horse. Hagrid spoke about them for a few minutes, saying they were powerful but quick-tempered animals, before offering if anyone wanted to fly one. Of course, no one did. But since Harry wanted Hagrid to have a good first class, he volunteered. After bowing and holding on tightly, Harry flew off into the sunlight, his hair flying back.

The next class was Harry's first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Lupin. As the students entered, they saw that the classroom wasn't completely bare, but the candles that had given the room extra light last year were no longer present. Though it was slightly dimmer this year, Lupin, who was standing behind his desk, flicked his wand at the windows and they opened. More light filtered in, giving the room a more cheerful appearance.

"Hello, class, and welcome to your third year of Defense Against the Dark Arts!" Lupin said coolly. "_Unfortunately_, the lesson I had planned for the first day will have to be postponed since I couldn't find the creature necessary for it, so instead I'll be showing you a different creature."

He unveiled a large tank with a goblin-like creature with a light atop his head. The students looked at it with a mixture of awe and alarm. And Harry was glad to take his mind off the Grim for another hour.

**A/N:** I know that this chapter was kind of long. The reason is that I made a separate chapter for the first classes, but it seemed like an unnecessary filler chapter, so I just added it to this one. Hope you liked the chapter!

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Preview of Chapter 18—

Abhorrence and Hopelessness: The night of the meeting with Black finally arrives and later Dumbledore sends Harry a letter… 


	18. Abhorrence and Hopelessness

"There is no lasting hope in violence, only temporary relief from hopelessness."

-Anonymous

**18**

**Abhorrence and Hopelessness**

Standing in the empty dormitory, Harry stared at the piece of parchment that was in his hands. He had memorized the message since it was so short, but couldn't help but look at it repeatedly. The idea that Black himself had once been holding this paper, writing the words he now looked down upon was somehow taunting.

_H.P._

_Meet me at 9 pm on the 10th of September where we had our first encounter. I'll be waiting._

_S.B._

Their meeting would be taking place in just a few hours time. Wanting to be ready, Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it in his robe pocket with his Marauder's Map. He then checked his right pocket to make sure his wand was safely stashed there.

Keeping the message in his hand, Harry went toward the Great Hall, where everyone was currently eating their dinner, unaware that the Boy Who Lived was about to face the man who was trying to kill him.

--

Harry couldn't stand walking back and forth in the Slytherin common room anymore. Draco had asked him numerous times if he was all right, but he just turned away and continued walking. He saw Draco and Blaise give each other odd looks, but chose to ignore it. When Draco wasn't looking, Harry slipped the Invisibility Cloak over himself and left.

Taking out his wand and the Marauder's Map, he said, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._"

As he stood near the stairs that led to the Entrance Hall, Harry saw that Dumbledore wasn't in his office, but actually sitting at the Staff table in the Great Hall. Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall were in McGonagall's office. Snape was…coming toward a dot marked _Harry Potter_.

Shocked, Harry turned to see Snape coming up behind him. He pressed himself against the wall, hoping Snape couldn't hear his uneven breaths. But he didn't, and instead went up the stairs. Harry followed Snape up, having no other reason to stay behind.

Passing the Great Hall, he saw that Dumbledore was sitting in the headmaster's seat, reading the _Evening Prophet_ as he drank a cup of tea. Snape walked into the room, and Dumbledore looked up, acknowledging his presence. But he couldn't listen to their conversation, he had more important things to worry about at the moment.

As he passed the Dementors, a chill ran down his spine, but he moved quickly so he couldn't be affected any more. "_Mischief Managed._" Harry put the map away, but grasped his wand even tighter as his eyes darted around.

The Womping Willow looked menacing as it loomed over him, its thick branches swaying and twitching in the wind. Harry grabbed a stick and prodded the knot before entering the earthy tunnel.

"_Lumos!_"

Fifteen minutes later, Harry crossed the threshold of Black's hideout. As he neared the room where he had met Black, he saw that there was no light coming from the cracks of the door. Was Black hiding?

Harry pushed the door open with two fingers. It creaked unevenly as it swung inward slowly. No one was in the room, as far as Harry could see. But taking a step in, he could only see the old, decrepit bed and the boarded-up windows. There was nowhere anyone could hide within the room. It also looked as if Black hadn't been there in weeks. A new, thick layer of dust had covered the floor ever since Harry had been there last, and the old blanket was no longer present.

The conclusion was that Black had not shown up. He couldn't possibly be scared of Harry given that he had come to kill him during the summer at Snape's, so Harry guessed that Black had been held up elsewhere. Perhaps he had been seen close to Hogwarts, but couldn't come out in fear of being caught.

The word "fear" being associated with Black was pleasing to Harry. Except, he wished it were he who was causing the fear, not the Ministry of Magic. What would the Ministry do once they found him? Throw him back in prison? What good would that do? Black would just escape again. Harry's idea was much better – kill Black before he can harm anyone else.

As Harry stood there, anger rose up inside him. Knowing Black wasn't there, he took off the cloak and kicked the bed frame to relieve some anger. He kicked it numerous more times before sitting on the edge of the bed, breathing quickly and erratically.

It was then, as Harry stared at the dusty floor, that he realized he wasn't just angry with Black for wanting to kill him, he was angry with him for not showing up. His want to meet Black had been so strong, not only to get more information out of him, but to cause him pain for making Harry stay with Snape, for making him have the worst summer ever, and for his actions of the past.

How dare he go back on his word? How dare he not turn up when Harry so desperately wanted him to be here?

Out of rage and frustration, Harry pointed his wand at the bare, window-less wall and yelled, "_Diffindo!_ There was an ear-splitting rip and then a loud crack. Harry watched as the already-peeling wallpaper split down the middle of the wall and as the wood panels beneath broke in half, splintering.

Harry took a deep breath, dust catching in his throat, as he stared at what he had done. He placed his wand back in his robes before exiting the room, throwing his Invisibility Cloak over him as he did.

--

The next day at breakfast, Draco asked, "Where did you go yesterday? I turned and you were gone."

After sipping down some tea, Harry replied with, "I just went to the Room of Buried Secrets to do some reading."

Draco said, "I'll go with you next time."

Harry just shrugged as the morning post arrived. To his left, Blaise got the IDaily Prophet/I. Opening it, it said in large letters: _BLACK SEEN NEAR HOGWARTS_.

Blaise unfolded the parchment and began to read, " 'Convicted murderer, Sirius Black, was seen making his way north toward Hogwarts. The man, who chose to remain anonymous, saw Black running through the woods behind his home, which, at most, is only an hour from Hogwarts. We can assume that Black is making his way toward the school in hopes of finding young Harry Potter…'"

Suddenly, Hedwig appeared, later than the other owls, with a letter tied to her leg. She landed in front of Harry, who took the letter and read it.

_Harry,_

_After getting news of Black's appearance near the school, it is my decision that you not leave the castle at any cost, except for Herbology classes, Care of Magical Creatures classes, and Quidditch practice. I ask that you remain within the castle and I hope you can abide by that rule._

_Professor Dumbledore_

Harry sighed audibly, staring at the letter. What had he expected? Dumbledore to tell him that everything was going to be just fine and that he shouldn't worry about Black? No, instead all he got was a letter from his headmaster telling him not to leave the castle.

It was nothing more than that.

--

"What're you doing?" a familiar voice asked from further down the Entrance Hall.

Harry turned to see Hermione coming toward him, a few books in her hands. He assumed she had left lunch early to go to the Library to complete her work.

It was exactly a week after getting the letter and Harry had gone outside only twice that week for class. None of the Houses had started Quidditch practice yet, but he was beginning to worry about it. He was afraid that Dumbledore would send him another letter telling him he wasn't allowed to go to practice. He didn't want to be kicked off the team because he wasn't allowed to attend and would have to revoke his position on the team. His year would be further ruined if Dumbledore didn't let him play Quidditch.

"Nothing," replied Harry, his hands in his pockets. He had been staring out of the open doors to see the expanse of Hogwarts grounds before him – an area in which he was prohibited.

"I certainly hope so," Hermione said, standing before him now. "Dumbledore sent you that letter because he wants you to be safe. He doesn't want you to go outside because he doesn't want you to run into Black. You know he's only doing it to help you, Harry."

Harry had sent a letter to her and Ron about Dumbledore's note the day he got it. What he got in return was a whole roll of parchment from Hermione saying how he should respect Dumbledore's words because Dumbledore was trying to protect Harry and make sure he was safe.

The matter that bothered him was that Dumbledore sent him a letter in the first place, he didn't tell him in person. Harry knew they didn't get a long very well, but sending a letter just seemed like Dumbledore couldn't take more time for Harry. Dumbledore, who couldn't make time to see how he was doing during the summer, could only spare a letter for trivial Harry Potter.

"Do you really think he's doing it to help me, Hermione? Or it is simply because he wants it to seem like he's doing something?" Harry asked.

Hermione frowned. "That's not true. You know that's not true. Dumbledore's worried about you; he wouldn't just send a letter to make it seem like he's getting something done. Dumbledore doesn't care what the _Prophet_ says."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked, somewhat insistent.

"Dumbledore spoke to us…Ron and me, I mean," Hermione said slowly, looking away.

"So Dumbledore can talk to you, but not to me!" Harry exclaimed, slightly angry.

"He didn't want to worry you," said Hermione. "Dumbledore brought Ron and me to his office to talk about you. He just…He wants us to—"

"What? Make sure I don't leave the castle or do something stupid?"

"Harry," Hermione said softly, looking troubled.

"No!" Harry said loudly. "Its obvious Dumbledore doesn't trust me! And don't tell me to be careful! I don't want to hear it anymore! I'll do what I want!"

Without another word or remark, Harry walked away from Hermione, leaving her behind with only her books to comfort her.

**A/N:** I know the chapter was a bit short, but I'll make up for it next chapter! I promise! And I'll just tell you now a chapter you've been anticipating (even if you didn't realize!) is only two away! Chapter 21 will definitely leave you in awe!

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**Preview of Chapter** **19—An Evening of Recollection:** Harry walks around the grounds hoping Black will show himself, the Slytherin teams finds a new Keeper, and Harry shows Lupin his red photo album…


	19. An Evening of Recollection

"We are made wise not by the recollection of our past, but by the responsibility for our future."

-George Bernard Shaw

**19**

**An Evening of Recollection**

October air was always much more pleasant than September's because of the refreshing chill that swept by when the wind passed. However, because Harry liked walking around the Black Lake in the fall, he to use his Invisibility Cloak to get past the Dementors.

For the past two weeks, Harry had been using this method in the late evenings to get away from the castle. He knew he should stay inside because Black was on the loose, and because he got that letter from Dumbledore, but most times he just couldn't stand being cooped up in the Slytherin common room or the entire castle.

As Harry sat at the edge of the Black Lake, his Marauder's Map in his right hand, he stared at the dark water. The moon glistened high above him, giving light to the dark grounds around him. Though he knew Black could be hiding in the Forbidden Forest this very moment, Harry couldn't help but want to be outside. Lately, the castle was starting to become more and more restricting.

The map in his hand showed no one was on the grounds, except Hagrid who was in his garden. The new Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin, was in his office. Harry stared at the little dot that said _Remus Lupin_. He liked the man, not just because they seemed to have a mutual aspect of disliking Snape and not because he had been a friend of his father's, but because he was caring, compassionate, and thoughtful.

And Harry knew he wasn't the only one who thought so. He had heard the others saying the same as well. So far, he was the most brilliant of the Dark Arts teachers they had had because his classes were the most unique. And they were right. Harry had never been in any classes like the ones Lupin taught – they were exciting and slightly daring.

As Harry looked around the Marauder's Map, he saw the dot of _Severus Snape _in the storage cupboard. Snape seemed to be making something because he went to his office and back to the cupboard numerous times. But he didn't care what Snape was making. His thoughts trailed to Divination, but far worse than his hate for that class was his hate for the man named Severus Snape.

As far as he could tell, this year had been much worse than any other. Snape taunted him in class, giving him failing grades on potions that he knew had been made correctly, and making sure that his life at Hogwarts was slightly less enjoyable. More than once he had been given detention for speaking out in class when Snape, yet again, told him he was just like his father under his breath.

Harry exhaled audibly. He tapped the map and got up, deciding to go back into the castle.

--

On the second Saturday of October, Harry entered the common room to see that a bulletin had been posted on the green notice board. Just as he was about to look at it, someone called his name from the other side of the room.

"Potter!"

Flint walked toward him, his broom in his hand. "Don't know if you saw the notice or not, but we're having Keeper tryouts."

"Why isn't Bletchley playing Keeper anymore?" Harry asked.

Flint just shrugged; it was obvious he didn't really care. "Dunno. He just came up to me yesterday, saying he quit. Look, I know it's sudden, but the whole team's gonna be there. It's this afternoon at four. I expect you there. Don't disappoint me, Potter."

As Flint walked away, Harry saw Miles Bletchley sitting in an armchair by the wall. A green torch hung above his head, casting some light across his saddened face. Harry ventured a guess as to why Bletchley had quit the Slytherin Quidditch team – even months later from the Chamber of Secrets being open, he was still being called a Mudblood. Even worse was the fact that his teammates called him it as well. Pity overtook Harry and he was about to walk over to Bletchley, but Draco and Blaise came toward him.

"Did Flint ask you to attend the tryouts?" Blaise asked.

Harry nodded before asking, "Are either of you trying out?"

His two friends shook their heads. "I don't like being Keeper. If there was a Chaser tryout, I would be the first one there," Draco said. Blaise said, "I like being Chaser as well. If there are any openings, you'll tell us first, right, Harry?"

"Of course," exclaimed Harry. "It'd be great if I had friends on the team."

As they walked to breakfast, Harry turned to look at Bletchley, who was still staring at the ground.

Later that day, just before four o'clock, Harry and the rest of the team assembled at the Quidditch pitch. A large group of all ages had turned up: some looking nervous, other looking pompous. The team took their seats at a flimsy, wooden table that had been brought down for the tryouts. Draco and Blaise sat themselves down in the stands, where a bunch of giggling girls currently resided.

Flint stood, his angry, troll-like appearance making everyone become silent. "If you're in your first year, leave now!" Harry saw a few, small students walk away sadly. "Everyone else, we have a sign-up sheet here, so write down your name! Well, hurry up!" Flint then made them all stand in line and made clear that they should be silent if they wanted to be on the team.

"One by one you're going to fly up and attempt to defend the goals! You'll each be given five chances!" Flint said firmly. "The person who defends the most goals will be Keeper! Wes Klein, you're up!"

Klein defended three goals; the couple of students after him only managed to save one or two. A fourth year named Montague, who was of a large build and was much taller than Crabbe and Goyle, got onto his broom next. It looked as if his broom could barely hold him up in the air, but he managed to save four goals.

Since no one else did better than Montague, he was made Keeper of the Slytherin team. With four goals, he was better than the others. Flint told the team that their first Quidditch practice was next week on Tuesday.

The trepidation that he would be prevented from practicing Quidditch returned. Would Harry get a letter tomorrow from Dumbledore saying that he couldn't play Quidditch because Sirius Black was on the loose?

As the group dispersed, Harry wondered if he would be able to make it to the practice on Tuesday. Draco and Blaise caught up with him and they made their way back to the common room to enjoy the day with some Chess and Exploding Snap.

--

During lunch on Sunday, Harry remembered that Lupin wanted to see the photos in his album. Since he didn't have anything planned for that evening, Harry decided he would check if his professor was busy or not.

Harry knocked on the slightly ajar door later that evening, his red album under his left arm. "Come in," said the voice of Professor Lupin. Pushing the door open slowly, Harry saw that Lupin was sitting at his desk, shuffling through papers. He walked in without making much noise since he didn't want to interrupt. His professor looked up at him after he was completely in the room.

"Oh, hello, Harry," Lupin said with a smile. "I wasn't expecting it to be you. Take a seat."

"Who were you expecting?" Harry asked, curious, as he sat down.

"That doesn't matter," said Lupin. He then eyed the large album. "What have you brought?"

Harry placed the album upon the desk with a smile on his face. "You said you wanted to see it. Do you have time now, Professor?"

"I think I can add you into my busy schedule, Harry," Lupin said jokingly. He reached toward it, but then stopped. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

Lupin took the album, pulling it closer to himself and leaned it against the edge of the desk so it faced him. His professor turned the cover to see the first picture and smiled. Harry knew which picture it was – it was of his mum and dad. He couldn't help but smile as well.

There was something about seeing those pictures that brought out a youthfulness in Lupin that he was beginning to lose. He turned the page again. "I remember your parents wedding. It was a truly magical day. Everyone was so happy. It was amidst all the darkness, but there was so much light," said Lupin as he stared at the picture before him. "James couldn't stop smiling."

A picture of Harry's father popped into Harry's mind's eye and he smiled wider. Lupin then laughed out loud after turning the page. He glanced up quickly at Harry, and then looked back at the album. "The picture of your father and Black. Peter was holding the camera, I remember. I know I told some joke; can't recall what I said. But I guess it doesn't matter."

"The four of you must've been really good friends," Harry said.

Lupin looked up at him. "We were, and remained so even after Hogwarts. Of course, your father and Black were best friends. Used to do everything together." He said the last more quietly.

"They didn't die together," Harry said bitterly. "Black is still on the loose. He's still out there."

"That's true," Lupin said. "I shouldn't have mentioned it."

Harry said, "There's one picture in there that makes me almost sick. It's of Black holding me on my 1st birthday."

His professor turned the pages until he got to the picture. He nodded, almost solemnly, when he did so. "I took that picture. You're mother was standing beside me, trying to get you to wave."

"Do you think Black was already…" Harry broke off.

"Already one of Voldemort's followers?" Lupin asked gravely. "I imagine so."

He paused for a moment as he turned the page once more. Lupin spoke as he looked at the picture. "I don't know if anyone told you, but after your birthday, life got considerably more difficult: Dumbledore seemed to know that something horrible was coming, and he also suspected that someone close to your parents was giving away valuable secrets to the Death Eaters and to Voldemort."

Lupin looked up at Harry. "For three months, Black, Pettigrew, and I suspected each other. There were times when I would argue with Black just to see if any information of him going to Voldemort would accidentally slip out. But nothing ever did. We all watched each other so carefully. At one point, I found Black following me home. Later that week, I followed _him_ home."

"What about Pettigrew? You said you suspected him? Did you follow him?" Harry asked.

"Not really. You see, Pettigrew was…not as strong, I'll say, mentally or emotionally. It was harder for the both of us, for anyone, to think Peter could give secrets to Voldemort. I did suspect him, but to me it seemed more likely that Black was behind it all."

"And you were right."

"Yes, but no one wants to be right about the betrayal of a friend, Harry. There were many times when I wished it weren't true. I wished, no hoped, that none of that had occurred. Most times I wanted it to be a very bad nightmare."

Harry nodded grimly at what his professor said. He knew that those three months and the close time after that must have been what made Lupin lose his liveliness and vigor. It seems that when something bad like that happens to someone at a young age, generally the person appears to move unwillingly forward in age.

Lupin turned the page again. "I'm looking at the picture of me baby-sitting you. I see that Professor Dumbledore is talking to your parents in the background. It was during that time of suspicion. Your father didn't want to believe that Black might be the one to betray him. He didn't want it to be any of us."

"I'm sorry."

Lupin looked up at him quickly. There was almost a hint of incredulousness on his face. "Why? There's nothing for you to be sorry about. If anything, I should be the one saying sorry to you, Harry."

"Well, I'm sorry you had to go through all that," Harry said. "There probably were times when you wanted to hide to get away from it all, but you didn't."

"I wish I could have. It would've been nice to get away from all the finger-pointing, so to say," Lupin said, "but if I had hid that would've been even more suspicious."

"I guess your right."

Lupin turned the page and smiled faintly. After turning the page once more, he said, "I see you have your own addition."

"Thought it was a nice touch."

There was a knock on the door. Lupin, still holding the red album, said, "Come in."

The door opened slowly to a man cloaked completely in black with dark greasy hair. In his hands was a smoking goblet that brought a horrible smell into the room. Snape's eyes darted to Harry. He walked past him to place the goblet upon Lupin's desk.

"I have another cauldron full should you need any more," Snape said simply.

"Thank you, Severus," Lupin said kindly.

As Snape walked toward the door, his black eyes focused on Harry in a glare. Harry watched as Snape's robe followed him out of the door, almost being caught as he closed it softly.

When he turned back, Lupin was peering into the smoking goblet. The potion within was thick and mud-like in substance. "What is that, Professor?"

"Just a potion Professor Snape has been kind enough to make for me. I can't make it myself because it's much too complicated."

"Are…are you sure it's safe?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean?" Lupin asked, looking up at him.

"I mean, do you trust Snape?"

"Harry, we may not have the best past, Professor Snape and I, but, yes, I trust him," said Lupin. As he looked back into the goblet, he said, "It's too bad sugar makes this useless."

As Harry sat there, he thought of something Snape had told him this past summer. "Professor, did you call yourselves…the Marauders?"

Smiling widely, Lupin looked at him. "Yes, we did. Who told you that?"

"Snape."

Carefully, Lupin picked the goblet up with both hands and brought it to his mouth, letting the thick muck pour in as his eyes stayed tightly shut. When he brought the near-empty goblet down, he swallowed with a grimace. "Disgusting."

"Who? Snape?" Harry asked jokingly. He could have sworn he saw Lupin smile, but couldn't tell because his professor picked the goblet back up and finished what was left of the potion. Lupin then checked his watch. "It's getting late, Harry, you should go back to your common room." Harry took the album from the table as he stood.

"Good night, Harry."

" 'Night, Professor."

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Preview of Chapter 20—A Most Curious Tonic:

A fight breaks out at Quidditch practice and Harry finds out what the potion is that Lupin drank…


	20. A Most Curious Tonic

"Curiosity is lying in wait for every secret."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

**20**

**A Most Curious Tonic**

Monday morning came and went, as did Tuesday morning, and Harry didn't receive a letter from Dumbledore preventing him from attending Quidditch practice. So Tuesday afternoon, he went with the rest of the team to the pitch for the first practice.

"Up on your brooms! Come on!" Flint said loudly as he flew into the air. "I don't care if you're new, Montague, get up on your bloody broom!"

"I'm getting on my broom! Shut it, Flint!" Montague said, angrily.

Flint ignored his response, instead he told the others to start practicing. "On the left, Pucey, Higgs, and Montague; on the right, Bole and Derrick. Potter, you know what to do. We only have an hour for practice tonight. The Hufflepuff's have the pitch after us."

"Those duffers?" said Bole. He started to laugh afterward as he and Derrick flew to the right side of the pitch.

"Potter, come here to get the Golden Snitch!" Flint yelled, holding a fluttering, golden ball in his right hand. He was over on the left side of the pitch, where Higgs was throwing the Quaffle toward Montague. The Quaffle went flying past Higgs and Pucey, who ducked, and hit Flint in the back of the head.

The Snitch went flying out of Flint's hand as he grabbed the back of his head in pain. Harry flew forward to catch the Snitch. Quick on his broom, Pucey grabbed the Quaffle before it hit the ground.

Harry could see Flint's face slowly growing redder in the face with eyes bulging slightly out of his head. He turned suddenly to face Montague. "Watch where you hit that, you wanker!"

Montague opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better off it. He just glared at Flint, who flew forward to grab the Quaffle from Pucey's hands. Before throwing it, he turned to Harry and yelled, "What the hell are you doing, Potter? Practice!"

"Right, yeah." Harry threw the Snitch into the air and watched it fly away.

For twenty minutes, the pitch was as silent as it ever could get. Now and then someone would yell something or call out or cheer. In that time, Harry caught the Golden Snitch five times.

Just as he was about to catch it for the sixth time, Flint yelled, "That's Quaffle-pocking, Pucey! You can't tamper with the Quaffle! We'll lose points if you do that!"

Harry just missed the Snitch by inches, but let it fly away. He was too interested in what was going on below. On the other side, Bole and Derrick had turned to witness the scene, too.

"You always told us to forget the stupid rules and just play the game!" Pucey yelled.

"Tampering with the Quaffle is not playing the game! That's just stupid! That's an easy way to lose hard-earned points!" Flint yelled back, flying until he was only a few inches from Pucey.

"I wasn't going to do that in the game! I was just having some fun! It was supposed to keep flying at Montague to annoy him!"

"That's what you were going to do?" Montague asked, looking angry.

Montague flew forward to grab the Quaffle from Pucey's hands. "Hey!" Pucey yelled. "Gimme that back!"

"Fine!" Montague yelled. As he turned to face Pucey again, he pulled his right arm back and then hurled the Quaffle straight at Pucey. It hit him squarely in the face, and he cried out momentarily in pain. As the Quaffle fell to the earth below, without a second thought, Pucey flew at Montague, punching him on the side of the face. Flint flew toward them. Harry wasn't sure whether Flint was going to stop it or join in. As Flint tried to stop the two fighting teammates, Montague accidentally punched him in the stomach. Montague didn't seem to notice because he brought his arm back again to get at Pucey, who was also trying to punch as much of Montague as he could. Flint entered the brawl, and punched Montague in the eye.

Harry watched, slightly disgusted but somewhat amused, as the three students clawed, grabbed, and punched as much as possible. They were barely holding onto their brooms, and Harry was sure that one of them was going to fall off soon.

He looked over at Bole and Derrick, but they didn't seem to care. They had smiles on their faces as they watched and talked excitedly about the quarrel.

"Stop!" Harry tried, but they continued. He knew there was no way he could go in the fight, he was much too small; he would be pummeled. "Stop, you idiots!"

They continued for a good few minutes until McGonagall came running over. Pointing her wand at her throat, her voice extended throughout the Quidditch pitch, "STOP FIGHTING _NOW!_"

Bruised, battered, and bleeding, the three teammates stopped fighting. They looked down at McGonagall. "GET DOWN HERE IMMEDIATELY! ALL OF YOU!"

Once they were on the ground, McGonagall stowed her wand away. "What do you three think you were doing? And you, Flint, as Captain, should know better! Explain yourselves!"

"He hit me with the Quaffle—!"

"Being rude and—!"

"Punched me and was being insulting—!"

"Enough, enough!" McGonagall said loudly, looking slightly incredulous at their behavior. "Flint, Montague, Pucey: you all have a week's worth of detention with me. Go to the Hospital Wing, but report to me once you get out. I'll be speaking to Professor Snape about this." The three left for the castle, holding their faces or stomachs, as they muttered under their breaths at each other.

"Potter, Higgs, Bole, and Derrick, you're free to go. But I find it amazing that none of you tried to stop this. Yes, Potter, I heard you yelling. I will be speaking about the rest of you to Professor Snape. But if you cannot manage to control yourselves from now on, then I will have to speak with Professor Dumbledore about preventing the Slytherin team from practicing."

Higgs opened his mouth in protest, but McGonagall raised a hand to stop him. "I don't _want_ to stop you from practicing, but I will if I have to. I want the four of you to go to your common room straight away."

As they left and went around the castle to go in through the Entrance Hall, Bole said, "The nerve of her! She's not our Head of House! She can't stop us from practicing Quidditch. We'll see what Snape says after he talks to her. He probably won't even care!"

--

With all his homework finished, Harry really had nothing to do. There was no Quidditch practice on Wednesday and he didn't feel like reading with Draco in the Room of Buried Secrets. But though he didn't have anywhere to be or any work to do, Harry did have a matter to investigate, and the best place to do that was the Library.

Upon entering, he saw Hermione sitting by herself, a large pile of books before her. She turned a page of the book she was reading, not even acknowledging Harry's presence. Figuring she needed space to concentrate, he decided not to interrupt her.

Harry went to the section of the Library where he knew the Potion books resided. But after twenty minutes, his searching for the right book was unproductive. The books he found had a glossary that went by name, not what they were for. He should have known that finding it would be difficult since the only thing he knew about the potion was that it smelled and tasted disgusting, and that sugar made it useless.

As he put another useless book back, someone behind him asked, "What're you looking for?"

Harry turned to see a frizzy-haired girl with two books in her hands. "Hello, Hermione. I'm looking for a book that will tell me about a certain potion."

"What's the name of this certain potion?"

"I don't know, but I know that the potion smells disgusting and sugar renders it useless."

"Never heard of a potion like that before. Must be complicated to make then."

"I heard it was," Harry said as followed Hermione down a different aisle of books.

Hermione grabbed a thick, faded red leather-bound book. "I've used this before to search for potions. I haven't read the whole thing, but maybe the potion you're looking for is in here."

The two of them went to a deserted table and opened the book to the middle. They sat down next to each other to investigate. As Hermione flipped through several pages rapidly, Harry asked, "Where's Ron?"

"Gryffindor common room," said Hermione unemotionally. "He's probably playing Chess with Neville. He never comes with me to the Library. He doesn't like to read and doesn't care much about learning."

"Oh, I see," Harry said, realizing that Hermione sounded slightly hurt by Ron's nonchalant actions. "Well, he probably just wants to stay with Neville because he's another bloke. It's nothing against you personally I'm sure."

"I guess you're right, Harry," Hermione said. She turned the page where there was a picture of a goblet with steam emitting from it and a sour-faced man beside it.

"Wait! Go back," said Harry quickly, leaning over the edge of the table to get a better look. Hermione turned back, and he saw the words iWolfsbane Potion/i at the very top.

"Wolfsbane Potion?" Hermione asked. "You're looking for a potion to help treat lycanthropy?"

"Lycanthropy?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione.

"Werewolves," explained Hermione. "I heard this potion treats some of the worst side effects of being a werewolf." She looked down at the page, her eyes scanning the words. "There, it says that the potion tastes and smells foul. Also, that adding sugar would make it ineffective."

Hermione closed the book with a thud. "Harry, why did you want to know about this potion? Who told you about this?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Werewolves are highly dangerous," said Hermione with seriousness. Her eyes narrowed as he surveyed him. "Do you know anyone who's a werewolf, Harry?"

"No, of course not. I just…"

"What?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"You swear you won't tell anyone?" Harry inquired, his face stern. "Only Ron? And that he won't tell anyone?"

"I swear, Harry, now what is it?"

"Snape made the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin. I was in his office when he drank it."

"He's a…?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide.

"Yeah, I think so, but I don't think he's dangerous, Hermione. If he was, Dumbledore wouldn't let him become a teacher." Harry said, almost pleadingly, "Just don't tell anyone. I don't want the school to find out what he is. He's a good man and he doesn't need the world to know."

Hermione nodded slowly. "It's good of you to protect him like that. Not many would."

"Thanks," Harry said with a small smile.

"You're a very unique Slytherin, Harry."

--

It was obvious to Harry that Hermione had told Ron about Lupin being a werewolf because when he bumped into Ron in the corridor the next day before Double Dark Arts, he seemed overly nervous. Ron's ears and cheeks were slightly red; Hermione looked fine, if only a little hesitant to go inside the classroom.

Under his breath, because Draco was near, he said, "Don't worry. He's not going to lash out and bite you. But right now you both look highly suspicious, so calm down or he might notice something." Hermione nodded, brushing some hair out of her face.

The door opened and Lupin stood in the doorway, a cheerful smile on his face. "Come on in."

Ron looked at Harry nervously before following the group of students. Behind him, Draco noticed how red Ron's face looked and he asked, uncaringly, "What's wrong with the Weasel? Did his one-bedroom house collapse?"

Harry ignored Draco and instead walked into the slightly dim room.

--

"Finally, it's Friday!" exclaimed Blaise, as he, Draco, and Harry proceeded into the swarming Great Hall. They sat down at the Slytherin table and immediately began to eat a much wanted breakfast.

"So, Harry, have you heard any news concerning Black?" asked Blaise. "Do you've any idea where he is?"

"Haven't heard a word," said Harry. "He must be laying low. But I have a feeling we'll be seeing him soon."

"Well, tell me exactly when that feeling gets stronger, so I can make sure I'm out of the way," said Blaise, jokingly. Draco laughed along, and although Harry smiled, he knew that Black coming near Hogwarts was no laughing matter.

"If he does come to Hogwarts, I'll be ready."

"What're you planning on—"

Draco never finished his question because at that moment, hundreds of owls swooped down from the sky onto the awaiting students below. Draco got a letter from his father, though Harry didn't ask about it, and a box of sweets from his mother. Blaise received the iDaily Prophet/i, which had nothing pertaining to Black.

Harry wasn't sure if he sure if he should be pleased or distressed by that. On one hand, it meant that no one had had the unfortunate occasion to meet Black, but on the other, it meant no one knew where he was.

He, Harry, got nothing. Maybe that was a good thing though – it meant no disconcerting letters from Dumbledore.

As Harry glanced at the second page of the iProphet/i, there was a loud cry from the Gryffindor table. Seamus Finnigan was standing, clutching a long letter. One hand was holding his forehead as he stared at the parchment. He looked highly distressed.

"What's wrong, Seamus?" Thomas asked. "What happened?"

"Me mam's been laid off from 'er job at the Ministry," Finnigan said slowly.

A few seats down from Harry at the Slytherin table, someone gasped. He turned to see Pansy Parkinson covering her mouth. She turned to look at him, and seemed to sense what he was thinking because she said, "Trelawney predicted on the first day of school that Finnigan's mother would lose her job. Remember?" Harry nodded slowly.

"I forgot about that," said Draco. "You don't think – the Grim?" He didn't have to say anymore. Harry understood completely.

If Trelawney was correct about Finnigan's mother, maybe she would be right about the Grim – maybe Harry's life was coming to an inevitable end.

--

Dipping his quill into the inkbottle once more, Harry continued to write his Potion's essay. He knew without a doubt that this essay should get an Outstanding, but because he would be handing this in to Snape, he probably wouldn't be getting anything above an Acceptable.

There was a soft tap on his shoulder. Harry turned to see Draco standing beside him. "Can I talk to you?" Draco asked.

Curious, Harry nodded and they moved to a less crowded area of the common room. "What is it?"

"This morning you said you would be ready if Black came," said Draco, with an odd seriousness. "What exactly are you planning?"

Harry was slightly taken aback by the fact that his best friend was concerned about the matter. When he had shown Draco that letter from Dumbledore regarding the fact that he couldn't leave the castle, Draco had hardly acknowledged it. Now, however, he was suddenly interested in Harry's well-being.

"I'm not planning anything, really," said Harry. "But why do you want to know?

"Honestly?"

"Yeah, honestly."

"Harry, you're my best friend. I don't want to see you get hurt _or worse,_" explained Draco. "Black's hurt and betrayed many people…as I'm sure you know. He won't hesitate to kill to get to you. I think you should—"

"Not you, too," said Harry, who was tired of being told to be careful and cautious – words he was sure had been forming in Draco's mouth.

"Harry, you know me – you know I wouldn't normally tell you this but circumstances call for it, so…just watch your back," said Draco. "All right?"

"Yeah, I understand," Harry said. "Thanks."

Draco shrugged his shoulders as if to say it was nothing.

Harry realized that Draco didn't want to be impeding about the issue of Black, but he wanted Harry to think about it and be wary. And though Harry constantly told Ron and Hermione to stop bothering him, the truth was: he looked over his shoulder more than was necessary.

**A/N:** As you know, or maybe you just don't remember, Draco knew that Black had betrayed Harry's parents because his father told him. You'll see how this all pan's out later.

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**Preview of Chapter 21—Knife of Broken Friendship:** Friendships with Harry end…


	21. Knife of Broken Friendship

"Friendship is like a glass ornament; once it is broken it can rarely be put back together exactly the same way."

-Anonymous

**21**

**Knife of Broken Friendship**

The sky around them was beginning to darken; the air was getting crisper all around them. Harry knew that Draco and Blaise were in the Great Hall eating dinner now. It had been a week since Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been outside Lupin's classroom, somewhat nervous at the prospect of having to go in.

Now, Ron and Hermione were standing beside Harry near the Black Lake, telling him, for the hundredth, that he should go back inside and be safe. But their constant pestering was beginning to get on Harry's last nerve. He knew the dangers. He knew that Black was out there somewhere, probably close, but Harry didn't need their help.

"Harry, you shouldn't be outside. What if Black's out here, watching you? What if he jumps out and you're all alone?" Hermione asked, pulling at the tips of her cloak sleeves since it was chilly.

"I can defend myself! I don't need you to constantly remind me of the danger, Hermione!" Harry blurted.

"Calm down, Harry. You don't have to yell," said Ron, his ears red from the harsh wind.

"I'm just trying to help you. You know who's out there and yet you still continue to go outside, alone, in the dark," repeated Hermione.

"She's right. You're better off with the others inside," said Ron. "I mean, I know you bring your Invisibility Cloak with you, but what if he sees you somehow? What if he has some detector with him? He's a dark wizard, Harry; he might know when you go outside by yourself."

Harry, not looking at either of his friends, was tapping his foot against the soft earth. He was starting get seriously bothered by their continuous persecution. "Just stop! I don't need you two to always telling me not to go outside! I'll do what I want!"

"But, Harry, you—" started Hermione.

"Shut up, Mudblood!" Harry exclaimed in frustration. He heard her gasp as her mouth opened in awe. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Harry continued, "Just leave me alone, Weasel!"

Hermione and Ron walked away quickly, without another word. His green eyes followed them as they went. He saw that they were headed in the direction of Hagrid's.

Harry turned and walked toward the Great Hall, but with every step he took, he regretted yelling what he had at Hermione and Ron. He never thought he would ever call Hermione…a Mudblood. It always seemed like something only Draco would say since he had been brought up to think like that. But to come out of Harry's mouth? He felt disgusted with himself as he walked into the Great Hall, so tried to push it out of his mind while he sat down and put some food on his plate. Except, he didn't feel like eating.

"Where've you been?" asked Draco, biting some meat off his fork.

"I was just…walking around the Black Lake," Harry replied. He thought Draco would say something about it being dangerous with Black on the loose, but he didn't, and Harry was relieved.

Ten minutes later, Harry was talking, uninterestedly, with Blaise about Quidditch when he noticed Ron and Hermione walk into the room and sit at the Gryffindor table. Harry looked up at the Head Table to see Dumbledore sitting in the middle, eating some soup quietly. Snape was talking to the two teachers next to him, and McGonagall was talking to Lupin.

No less than a minute later, Harry heard loud, heavy footsteps nearing the Great Hall. Draco and Blaise must have heard them, too, because they turned toward the door.

Hagrid walked in, looking red in the face, his eyes narrowed. His heavy feet marched toward the Slytherin table, and Harry knew that Hagrid was coming to talk to him. The other students and teachers turned to see what was going on. Harry could feel their watchful eyes on him.

"What's wrong with yeh, Harry!" bellowed Hagrid. Blaise accidentally hit his glass cup, which tipped, fell, and shattered on the floor. Parkinson shrieked as the glass scattered. "Callin' yer friends names! I'm ashamed of yeh! What've Ron and Hermione ever done teh yeh?" His angry eyes seemed to be bulging out of his head.

Harry stood up; though he was taken aback, he didn't show it. "They haven't done anything, Hagrid! But a thousand years of Hogwarts students were right! Slytherins and Gryffindors cannot be friends!"

"If yeh think that way then Ron and Hermione are better off without yer ruddy friendship!" Hagrid spat.

"Fine! I don't need them! Who would want to be friends with them anyway?" Harry shouted. Draco chuckled beside him, but only Harry heard.

Hermione got up and ran out of the Great Hall. Ron stood at the Gryffindor table and glared at him from across the room. "Potter, you're a rotten git!" He, too, ran out. Hagrid gave him one last glare before trudging out behind them.

All eyes were on Harry, and he could feel them boring into him. He could see every one of them wondering what had just happened. The whole room was silent and it killed him. He just wanted them all to turn away, mind their own business, and go back to eating. But Harry knew that wouldn't happen.

He looked in the direction of the Head Table. Snape looked somewhat stunned, Lupin looked disappointed, but Dumbledore's eyes were unreadable. Harry felt he had to turn away from Dumbledore's penetrating gaze.

If Harry ran out of the Great Hall to escape from the others' eyes, he would look a fool. So he took out his Conglomerate Stone, which had been in his pocket. In the corner of his eye, Harry saw Snape stand up at the table, still watching him.

"Potter, stay h—"

Too late. Harry had touched the gray stone. He felt his feet lift off the Great Hall floor, and moments later they retouched, now in front of Malfoy Manor's front door. He put his Conglomerate Stone away. He stepped forward and the door opened.

Harry walked into the Entrance Hall. The butler closed the door, and said, "Good evening, Mr. Potter." With a nod, the man left quickly.

After a minute, the man hadn't returned, so Harry asked, "Hello?" to the space around him. He looked at the stairs, thinking that someone would come down them or respond, but there was no reply. He waited a couple seconds before asking again. "Hello?"

From the Great Room, came Dobby with a large smile on his face. "Dobby is very pleased to see Harry Potter. Is Harry Potter here to see Master Malfoy? For Master Malfoy is not here."

"No, I'm not," said Harry quietly.

"Would Harry Potter like something to drink or eat?"

"No thanks, Dobby. I won't be staying long. I just needed to sit down in quiet for a little while." Dobby nodded and then left.

Harry went into the Great Room and then sat down comfortably in one of the armchairs that were next to the window. He stared out of it, just wanting some comforting silence. He saw the large black gates that guarded the manor and the stonewalls. Beyond that were masses of dark green trees that surrounded the whole manor and kept it exceptionally private.

The fireplace in the room had a nice fire going, but not one too strong. Harry could hear the crackling of the fire, but it didn't bother him. Right now, he wanted to stay at Malfoy Manor as long as possible. He didn't want to go back. Besides the fact that he would be getting detention, or worse, for going off school grounds, Harry knew that the other students were talking about what had happened, and he didn't want to go back to that.

Harry didn't want to face the reality of what had just happened: his friendships with Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid were now over. After what he had said to them, Harry knew they were furious and would never trust him again.

A soft chime sounded through the whole Manor. Dobby came quickly out of the Dining Room and into the Entrance Hall. Harry got up, thinking it would be Mr. or Mrs. Malfoy. The front door was opened and Snape walked in. Dobby closed the door and then walked past Harry, without looking at him. Harry and Snape were left alone.

"You are coming back to Hogwarts right now," stated Snape, irritated.

Harry walked back into the Great Room as he said, "I don't want to go back." Snape followed.

"Why? Because the school found out that famous Harry Potter has Gryffindor friends?" Snape taunted.

"_Had_ Gryffindor friends," Harry corrected. He sat down on the armchair again, looking at the floor. "They're obviously not my friends anymore."

Snape stood opposite him. "A shame, truly," he said sarcastically. Harry gave him a dirty look.

Snape turned to leave the room. "You can eithor sulk here all day, get detention, and have two hundred points taken off for leaving school grounds without permission, or you can sulk at school, still get detention, but I'll let leave the points. It's up to you."

Defeated, Harry got up. "Fine. I'll go back." He took his Conglomerate Stone out as he walked toward Snape, who put a hand on Harry's shoulder just as he touched the green stone. Harry felt the familiar pull on his body as his feet left the ground. When they landed, they were in an empty Slytherin common room.

It had only been about fifteen minutes after he had left the Great Hall, so all the other students were still eating. For some reason unknown to him, it had felt much longer.

"Detention, tomorrow night at six pm; be in the Entrance Hall," Snape said unemotionally, and then left the room without so much as a sound.

--

Harry sat in an armchair, the next evening after his publicized fight and his detention with Snape, as he stared at the fire, watching the wood burn and turn to ash. He wasn't hungry and hadn't been all day. As the rest of the school was eating dinner, Harry thought about yesterday and how he had to talk to Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid.

Now that the other Slytherins knew of the friendships he had tried to maintain, they ridiculed him constantly. Flint had said, so loudly that the whole common room could hear, that he couldn't believe a Mudblood-lover was on his team, which caused half the room to laugh. Some older students he didn't know by name, had kept repeating that he was "Harry Potter, the Boy Who Loved Mudbloods."

Harry didn't want to seem upset by their comments, but at one point it got so aggravating that he left the room in a hurry, which just caused the others to break out in laughter.

Now, all he wanted to do – needed to do – was speak to Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid. Harry didn't want to end it so horribly. If he could help it, this wouldn't be the end of their friendship at all.

But he was interrupted in his reflection as the wall slid away and Draco drew nearer.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Draco asked. "Why are you so upset? You finally got rid of those scum you called friends. You don't need them. They were only holding you back from doing better and greater things."

"_Just shut up, Draco_," Harry said, exasperated. "_You don't know them! You don't understand!_"

"I don't _want_ to understand! I thought you saw that I never attempted to be friends with them!" exclaimed Draco. "I suppose not."

"You never became friends with them because you think Ron's a blood traitor and Hermione a…Muggle-born." Harry asked, "Is that all you're concerned about – blood?"

" 'Concerned about'? I'm not concerned about it!" said Draco. "Blood's all that matters! Look around you, Harry! You may not want to see it, but everyone considers another person's blood purity!"

"No – it doesn't matter!" Harry yelled. "Look around _you!_ Yes, I see the prejudice, but blood purity doesn't matter to the majority of the Wizarding world! Do you see people regularly asking each other how pure their blood is? No, you don't!"

"That's because witches and wizards who are like that don't flaunt it!"

"Like you?" Harry shouted at Draco.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, somewhat nervously.

"What – you don't know? Don't tell me you can't see that you're prejudiced?" Harry asked. "Of course, you don't show the world – why would you? – but everyone sees it, Draco. Everyone knows. I thought you might be different than your father—"

"_Don't_," Draco said simply.

"Fine, I won't," Harry said. "But don't talk to me about being held back from doing better things when you have someone pulling _your_ reins."

Harry glanced quickly at the slightly red-faced Draco, and then exited the common room. He didn't know what his destination was, but he needed to be alone – he needed time to think.

As his feet pulled him inevitably toward the Room of Buried Secrets, Harry couldn't believe he had said those things to Draco. All those emotions and impressions about Mr. Malfoy and Draco had finally been released. Somehow, he felt cleared of those thoughts, but new ones were now invading that temporarily empty space in his mind.

Before entering the Room of Buried Secrets, Harry stopped walking near a suit of armor, and leaned against the cold, stone-covered wall. He closed his eyes as he focused directly on his heavy breathing.

After a few moments, his quickly beating heart slowed and he seemed more susceptible to concentration. With his eyes still closed, Harry heard a soft squeak. Opening them, he saw Scabbers, his former friend's pet rat. Harry knelt down and picked up the small animal. He then proceeded into the Room of Buried Secrets.

Stacks of books and parchment still lingered from the last time he and Draco had been there, reading and absorbing new information. Harry, who was thinking of the fact that this room had been introduced to him by Draco and that maybe he should leave, looked at the floating candles above him. He supposed numerous fights between friends and family were forever emblazoned in the room as a hovering, cylindrical mold of wax.

Harry set Scabbers down on a cushion of the blue couch before plopping himself down on the other. He didn't want to leave the room, despite what he had thought previously. The candles, though they held nothing but secrets, were oddly calming.

Harry sighed and glanced quickly at Scabbers, who was staring at him as he scratched a furry, pink ear. "You know," said Harry, "I didn't mean to say what I did to Draco, Scabbers, it just sort of…slipped out. Just like during the fight with Ron and Hermione. But Draco's father _is_ controlling him."

Scabbers inched closer to Harry as he continued, "I don't know where Draco got the idea that Ron and Hermione were holding me back. I mean, I know they were constantly telling me to be cautious of Black, but they weren't restraining me in any way; they just wanted me to be safe. He obviously thinks that being friends with them might've hindered our plans of becoming Animagi."

Harry sighed again. " 'Bigger and better things.' Draco means the Dark Arts of course. I know eventually that he'll follow in his father's footsteps. It's almost inevitable," continued Harry. "I just don't know if I'm going to follow as well. Certainly, I've thought about it. I suppose I need to think about it more. Right, Scabbers?"

The rat squeaked at Harry, who realized Scabbers was looking up. Both animal and boy were now staring at a golden spark that had appeared out of nowhere – it shown for a second before materializing into a pure white candle.

The words Harry had said were now a delicate but remarkable decoration that was forever inscribed in the Room of Buried Secrets.

**A/N: **Momentous chapter, I know. If you're wondering whether Harry and Draco's friendship ended, no it did not. They just had a fight and will be friends again in time. I can't say the same thing for Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid's friendship with Harry though. Please review! I would love to know what you think!

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Preview of Chapter 22—

Trying to Gain What Was Lost:

Harry sees a secret of Voldemort's and speaks to Hermione, Ron, and Hagrid to gain their friendships back…


	22. Trying To Gain What Was Lost

"The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost."

-G.K. Chesterton

**22**

**Trying To Gain What Was Lost**

Harry stared at the candle that held his secret. Deep down, he wished that no one would ever see it because it only showed the side of him that he wasn't proud of. But he supposed most people thought that when they realized a candle had been made because of them. And he remembered that he was the first person to ever think to hold a candle because initially all the candles had been white; now, some of them were black, showing that the secret no longer remained.

But with a curiosity that could only be counted as a weakness, Harry stood, wanting to see another secret. He put Scabbers on his shoulder before taking his wand out and pointing at a random candle not far from his own.

"Accio candle!"

The arrangement of couches were different, the stacks of books were gone, and the amount of candles were lessened. At the moment, there was no one in the room, but in the next instant, the small door opened to a tall, black-robed man with pale skin.

Harry knew immediately who he was. "Voldemort," he breathed as Scabbers gave a squeak. And it was he; only, he wasn't the Voldemort that had killed his parents, nor was he the Tom Riddle that had been his false friend last year. He seemed to be between those two momentous times.

Voldemort's eyes were red but didn't have the snake slits that Harry had seen in his first year, his skin was inhumanly pale though there still seemed to be a red flush to him, and his fingers were unnaturally long.

Voldemort proceeded further into the room. Instinctively, Harry took a step back. As he did, he noticed Voldemort run a hand over his right robe pocket, which was protruding slightly from an object he couldn't see.

"Hmmm," murmured Voldemort. "Only ten minutes…where to put it…"

Harry wanted to know what Voldemort was going to do in ten minutes and what he was stowing away. It seemed like he was deciding to hide an object within the castle walls, and if he had, it might still be there. Was it possible that there was something hidden in the Room of Buried Secrets?

His question was answered by Voldemort, who said, "No, not here. It is too open. It would not be safe enough."

Voldemort turned to leave. "_Of course_…it's the perfect place in Hogwarts…how very fitting." He then exited, and just before the door closed, the room had changed back to Harry's time.

With wide eyes as he stared at the spot where Voldemort had been, Harry said aloud, "Voldemort hid something in Hogwarts."

--

As the post arrived in the form of hundreds of owls the next morning, Harry ate his pancakes with a somber slowness. Draco was sitting numerous seats down and wouldn't speak or look at him. Blaise, who sat next to Harry, knew something was wrong because he kept glancing between Draco and Harry, who tried to ignore the unasked question.

Harry looked up as a small, brown owl, which he recognized as the Weasley's, came soaring towards him. In its beak was a bright red envelope. The Slytherins nearby who saw started laughing and whispering to each other.

Harry looked to Blaise, who, with wide eyes, said, "It's a Howler."

"A what—?"

The envelope opened as it lifted into the air in front of Harry and out bellowed Mrs. Weasley's voice at a magically magnified volume.

"HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU SAY SUCH HORRIBLE THINGS TO MY SON AND TO HERMIONE! THEY HAVE BOTH BEEN SO KIND TO YOU SINCE THE MOMENT THEY MET YOU! YOU HAVE NOT ONLY INSULTED THEM, BUT YOU HAVE INSULTED ARTHUR AND ME! WE LET YOU INTO OUR HOME, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY US? I AM COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY INSULTED AND YOU WOULD DO WELL NOT TO SPEAK TO RON OR HERMIONE OR THE ENITRE WEASLEY FAMILY AGAIN!"

The envelope, still in the air, went up in flames, letting small bits of ash cascade to the table until it was no more. Harry watched this, as both the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables burst into laughter, with the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables silent, their incomprehension apparent. Harry didn't know who was snickering louder – the Gryffindors for getting back at him without even having to do anything, or the Slytherins for having another reason to make fun of him about his choice of friends.

Across the room, Ron's face was bright red as he laughed with Finnigan and Thomas. Of all the people in the room, to see him laughing was what hurt the most. Then again, he shouldn't complain. He had hurt Ron and Hermione as equally, if not worse, than he had hurt them.

When the mocking started to sound like wild hyenas, Dumbledore stood and said, "Enough!"

But it wasn't the end of Harry's torture. He knew that the Gryffindors and Slytherins alike would be teasing him about the Howler for days, possibly weeks.

--

Though the fact that Voldemort had hidden some mysterious item in Hogwarts sparked enormous curiosity and excitement in him, the rift in Harry's friendship with Ron and Hermione was overwhelming to him. Despite that their friendship had been secretive, it was almost unfathomable that it could just end. He had known them for little more than two years, but Harry felt a great connection to Ron and Hermione.

The only problem was: if they didn't want to be friends with him anymore, there seemed little he could do to gain their trust and companionship back. Harry more than regretted what he had said and wished he could take it back, but, unfortunately, what was done was done.

Though these thoughts constantly trickled to the front of Harry's mind, he tried to push them back. He was determined to talk to them – if only to let them know he was sorry.

And that's exactly what he did the next evening.

Harry saw that Ron was in the Great Hall, and because he didn't want to cause another scene there, he decided to check if Hermione was in the Gryffindor common room. He bumped into someone as he turned to enter the Entrance Hall.

Draco rubbed his shoulder where Harry had hit him. Still angry with Draco, Harry left the room without an explanation of where he was off to.

Ten minutes later, Harry was standing in front of the opening to the Gryffindor common room, being stared at by the Fat Lady. "Do you ineed/i something?" she asked.

"I need to get in," Harry said.

"Do you know the password?"

"You know I don't the password!" Harry exclaimed.

"Well then you can't go in."

A moment later, Harry heard the sound of someone approaching. The soft taps rounded the corner and he saw Lavender Brown drawing nearer, a most curious and wary look on her face at seeing Harry.

"Err…is there a reason you're here?" Brown asked.

"I need to speak to someone," Harry said simply.

"Is it Hermione?"

Harry nodded before saying, "Can you tell her I want to talk to her and if she doesn't come out I'll…err…sleep in the corridor?"

"Sure," said Brown. She walked away from him to whisper the password to the portrait, which opened slightly, allowing her entrance. Harry thought Brown would leave the opening ajar, but she closed it and he was left alone.

Minutes later Hermione had yet to come out, so Harry sat himself against the wall on the cold, marble floor opposite the portrait hole. When Hermione did arrive, she opened the portrait slowly, clearly taking her time.

Harry stood as she closed the portrait and walked forward. He saw that her eyes were narrowed and her cheeks red; being in a close vicinity of Harry was, obviously, irritating her.

"Err…hi, Hermione," Harry said slowly, letting his eyes drop to the floor after glancing at her.

"Hello," she said, forcibly. "You know, I don't find it amusing that you would sleep outside the Gryffindor common room. For your information, it would just further prove how irresponsible and childish you are."

"I just want to talk to you," he said, looking up and ignoring the things she said about him.

"I'm listening."

"Hermione," Harry said apologetically, "I'm sorry I called you a Mudblood. I was upset and…I wasn't thinking."

"I know you weren't thinking!" exclaimed Hermione. "That's more than apparent!"

"I'm trying to apologize!" cried Harry.

"Well, I'm pleased that you are – I know you're not completely selfish and unrepentant – let me finish, but it still doesn't take back what you said," Hermione said. "Obviously, Malfoy's influenced you so much that it's become impulse to call someone a Mudblood. I see what being friends with him has done to you. I noticed the changes for a long time, but I never mentioned anything in hopes that it was just inside my head, and that the Harry Potter I first met would stay prominent.

"But you've changed; not entirely, because you had the decency to apologize, but the difference is apparent – at least to Ron and me."

"I didn't change," Harry defended. "I'm still me, I'm still Harry." He looked straight into her brown eyes and saw some disbelief. "What I said was a mistake."

"A mistake that could've been avoided," Hermione said. "No, it shouldn't have been avoided at all – you never should have thought to call me that in the first place."

"I know," murmured Harry. "And I'm—"

"Sorry. You said already." Hermione sighed audibly. "Look, maybe this should just be the end of our friendship. You may not want to admit it, or maybe you haven't even realized, but you i_have_/i changed and I know that you're not likely to change back so easily. You've called me a Mudblood once and you're likely to do it again, and not just to me," explained Hermione as she avoided Harry's eyes. "But thank you for the apology."

Hermione turned to walk away. Harry stood there, stunned and heart-broken.

"You want our friendship to end?" Harry asked. "Just like that? No more?"

"It ended the moment you called me a Mudblood and Ron a Weasel, and you know it," said Hermione. She had reached the portrait and was opening it. Harry knew she was right, but couldn't bring himself to say so or nod.

"Goodnight, Hermione," Harry said to the floor.

"Goodnight, Potter."

The name change made Harry look up toward the portrait of the Fat Lady, but by the time he had, Hermione was gone and the portrait hole was closed.

--

With the conversation between he and Hermione still fresh in his mind, Harry meandered through the corridors with no destination in mind. For some reason, wandering without an aim made it easier to think, but the walking didn't make his thoughts any less hurtful. Unfortunately, the time he had to walk was diminishing as the clock ticked toward eight pm.

As Harry rounded a corner on the second floor he nearly bumped into Severus Snape. His dark, lanky hair hung limply over his face, which had a sweaty sheen. He looked somewhat angry and livid.

"Watch it, Potter."

Harry moved out of his professor's way, but watched as Snape continued down the corridor, Still staring ahead, Snape said, "If you're still in the corridors in ten minutes, it'll be detention, Potter."

Harry turned and followed Snape to the Dungeons. "Emerald," Harry said to the wall, which slide way for him, revealing the exceptionally overflowing common room full of chatter, gossip, and prank-pulling schemes – hardly any talk consisted of homework and none of it involved "good" things.

A few girls giggled as he entered, a group of older boys called him "Harry Potter, The Boy Who Loves Mudbloods" under their breath, and others just laughed loudly when they saw him.

Harry, ignoring the others, sat in an armchair by the fire. He sat slumped there for nearly an hour, staring blankly at the common room opening and reviewing the conversation between he and Hermione.

Abruptly, someone came into his view and because he had been staring so intently at the burning embers, he nearly jumped in his seat. Miles Bletchley was standing in front of him, his features serious, but there was determination behind his eyes. He merely handed Harry a folded piece of parchment, nodded at him, and walked away. Curious, he opened the parchment to find a simple note.

_I learned from you to rise above the others Slytherins' harsh words. I know_

_that you can do it too. Most of the other Slytherins are wankers anyway, so just _

_forget what the others are saying and thinking and concentrate only on yourself. _

_Thanks, M. Bletchley_

Harry couldn't help but smile. He remembered helping Bletchley last year when the entire school had found that he was Muggle-born when he had been Petrified, and now Bletchley was returning the favor by reminding him to forget what the others are thinking. He turned in his chair and looked around the room. Bletchley was sitting at a table on the other side of the common room with Higgs. Bletchley looked up to meet his gaze and, with a small grin on his face, nodded, which Harry returned. He then turned back in his seat to stare at the fire, feeling slightly better.

As they late evening passed, Harry continued to sit in the armchair, gazing at the fire and occasionally around the room. He had never noticed, because of Riddle's diary the year before and because it was his first year before that, how many of his fellow Slytherins went in and out of the common room after hours. The other Slytherins thought nothing of it as a single person or a small pack left the green-decorated room to do whatever they chose.

The ones that left the common room seemed well-adapted to walking the corridors at night and not being seen by Filch, Mrs. Norris, or a professor because, obviously, they had never been caught, or he would have heard about it from someone else. News and gossip always traveled fast within the walls of Hogwarts.

--

It was just more than a week shy of November and the air was noticeably crisper and colder. Though most in the castle were excited about the upcoming Halloween feast, Harry couldn't feel excitement for anything.

He hadn't spoken to Draco in a few days, and because Ron and Hermione hadn't tried speaking to him again, he was now sure that their friendship really was over.

But even though he knew Ron had a temper and wasn't easily forgiving, Harry was going to try talking to him one last time. If Ron didn't want to be friends, then Harry would give up on trying.

Except there was one person that Harry didn't want to give up on – Hagrid. He hadn't spoken to Hagrid since the day of the fight, but he couldn't just accept that they weren't friends anymore. Hagrid had been the one to tell him he was a wizard and had helped him in Diagon Alley before his first year at Hogwarts. Harry had to talk to Hagrid – he couldn't let their friendship simply come to a close.

So, that evening, after finishing his loads of work, Harry was determined to talk to Ron. He noticed that Draco had left the common room with a book and knew he was off to the Room of Buried Secrets. He saw Blaise in the corner, playing a bunch of first years in Chess.

Without further ado, Harry left through the sliding door to wait near the Great Hall. He was sure that Ron would be entering soon to sink his teeth into something delicious. And sure enough, not five minutes later, Ron arrived with Longbottom.

Ron glanced at Harry before muttering something to Longbottom, who nodded and walked into the Great Hall. He walked toward Harry with hurried steps and a red face.

"You talked to Hermione!" began Ron, angrily. "I don't want to hear that you said a word to her ever again! How dare you speak to her after what you called her!" Ron was breathing heavily now as he stood directly in front of Harry.

"I was apologizing to her, Ron!" exclaimed Harry.

"Well don't talk to her again!" Ron yelled. "Stay away from her! And stay away from me! We don't want to be your friends anymore! Got it, Potter?"

But Harry never answered, even though he wasn't going to, because someone behind him asked, "What is going on here?"

Harry didn't have to turn to know who it was. Ron murmured, "Nothing" and then went into the Great Hall. Harry watched him leave before glancing at greasy, dark-haired Snape over his shoulder. He didn't want to hear any cruel remark from the greasy professor nor was he hungry anymore, so Harry went back down the stairs to the cold and dark Dungeons.

--

With Halloween a week away, Harry knew that Hagrid was busy growing monstrous pumpkins in his garden. Knowing that he had Double Care of Magical Creatures after lunch, Harry decided it was the best to go before the class started. It seemed the most opportune time.

Harry didn't see Hagrid inside his cabin, but Hagrid had definitely seen him because the curtains were suddenly drawn. Once at the door, Harry first knocked lightly and then somewhat aggressively.

"Hagrid!" Harry called. "Open the door!" After no reply, he said, "If you don't open the door, I'll blast it open!" But Harry didn't take out his wand.

Suddenly, the door flew open and Hagrid, taking up most of the space, stood in the doorway. His hair was slightly disheveled and there was some dirt on the knees of his trousers.

"Don' yeh dare blast me door open!" Hagrid yelled.

Taken aback, Harry stepped away from Hagrid. "I didn't mean it, Hagrid. I just want to speak to you."

"You've spoken enough as it is!"

"I told Hermione I was sorry."

"Yeh still said it!" replied Hagrid. "I couldn' believe what Ron an' Hermione were sayin' when they told me. You callin' Hermione a yeh-know-what? 'No,' I said. 'Harry'd never do some'in like that.' But they were so riled up abou' it and eventually I knew yeh had yelled at Hermione."

Harry was now looking at the ground. As Hagrid spoke, he felt considerably worse about what he had done and felt even worse about himself.

It seems Hagrid had the same idea because he said, "Yeh said yeh wer sorry teh Hermione. That's what counts, but I can' say I feel any better about what yeh did." He continued, "I have teh say I think very low of yeh for doin' that, Harry. It'll take a lot teh gain back me trust in yeh."

Harry nodded to the floor. He could feel the space behind his eyes growing hot, but managed to force back the tears. With a knot in his throat, he said, disheartened, "Ron and Hermione don't want to be my friends, Hagrid, they—"

"After what yeh said teh Hermione outside an' in the Great Hall, in front o' everyone no less, I agree with them," explained Hagrid. "Yeh said so yerself, Harry, Gryffindors an' Slytherins aren' meant teh be friends."

Slowly but with a loud thud, Hagrid closed the door, leaving Harry to dwell on his thoughts alone. Knowing the others were finishing lunch, Harry ran inside the castle and into the nearest boy's lavatory. He locked the door to ensure he remained unfound, and not soon after he did, Harry let the tears break free and fall freely from his bright green eyes down over his face. He leaned against the wall and then let his legs drop below until he was sitting on the cold floor.

Unbeknownst to Harry, someone had been standing in the Entrance Hall as he ran in. That person was surreptitiously listening at the door and could hear as Harry's sobs resonated off the walls, because although he had locked the door, he hadn't thought to put a Silencing Spell on it as well.

Thinking that no one could hear, Harry cried noisily into his knees as the tears continued to fall.

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**Preview of Chapter 23—****The Crux of Fear:**

Harry speaks with Draco, and then faces a very different Boggart than what he was expecting...


	23. The Crux of Fear

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us."

-Marianne Williamson's "A Return to Love"

**23**

**The Crux of Fear**

"Harry, where're you going?" Blaise asked.

Harry was exhausted from his disagreement with Hagrid, classes all day, Quidditch practice, and homework. He wanted nothing more than to get away for a while and be somewhere that required nothing of him.

Unfortunately, as he snuck out of the common room with his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map, he was caught by Blaise.

"I need to be alone for a while," Harry explained.

"You've been alone for days," said Blaise. "How much more time do you need? You know, Malfoy hasn't said a word to anyone since the day you had that fight with Hagrid in the Great Hall. Did—did you guys argue about something? He's not acting like himself, he's completely closed off."

Harry had been so absorbed in his problems with Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid that he had forgotten about Draco, his best mate.

"Where is Draco?" Harry asked.

Blaise shrugged. "Left the common room just before curfew."

"Was he carrying any books?"

"No, but he was holding a couple of Galleons."

Harry turned to leave. Over his shoulder, he said, "Thanks, Blaise."

Once he exited, he threw the Cloak over himself and quickened his pace toward the Entrance Hall. Since he wanted to make sure no one stood in his way, he took the Marauder's Map out. Lupin was walking on the fifth floor while McGonagall was on the stairs, making her way toward the seventh floor. Lucky for Harry, Snape was in his office.

"_Dissendium_," Harry said quietly as he tapped the hump-backed witch a few minutes later. He didn't know how Draco had gotten to Hogsmeade without being seen, or maybe he had been, but he sure as hell had taken a risk.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Harry entered the Three Broomsticks, his Invisibility Cloak under his right arm, to see Draco sitting at the bar with a Butterbeer in his hand. Madam Rosmerta smiled at him from behind the counter as he moved toward his glum friend.

"Come here often?" Harry asked, jokingly. But Draco didn't seem amused and Harry couldn't blame him.

"What do you want?" Draco asked.

"Nothing," replied Harry, who sat himself down on a stool. "I just want to know if you're all right."

"Why do you care?" Draco asked, turning to look at him. "From what you said a few days ago, you shouldn't even care about me. I'm nothing but a prejudiced wizard, right? Maybe I don't even have feelings!"

"You're not the prejudiced wizard. It's your father, he's—"

"Controlling me, right?"

"I guess," said Harry. "But you don't have to do what he says. You don't have to listen to him. You can be yourself. You can break away from him."

"He's my father, Harry!" exclaimed Draco. "You don't get it! I can't just separate myself from him. It's not that easy." There was a moment's pause before he muttered, "Besides, I don't know how different from him I really am anymore. Maybe I'm exactly like him. Maybe there's nothing I can do."

"There's always something you can do."

Draco eyed him curiously. "You have something to recommend, don't you?"

"I think you should stop getting those letters from your father," Harry explained, looking away slightly. "I don't know what he's been telling you all these years, but maybe it should stop."

Draco glanced up suddenly when he mentioned the letters. If he didn't know better, Harry could have sworn he saw his friend's cheeks flush. Draco cleared his throat and said, "Even if I suggest it, he won't listen to me."

"Just…tell him you're embarrassed that he keeps sending you letters and that older students are making fun of you for it."

"I'll try it," said Draco, who turned to look into his mug of Butterbeer.

Madam Rosmerta came over. "Didn't want to interrupt," she said. "Is there anything you want, Harry?"

"I didn't bring any money," Harry replied as he shook his head.

"He'll have a Butterbeer," Draco said. He pushed six sickles forward.

"Thanks," Harry said. After a Butterbeer was brought to him, he continued, "Draco, I'm sorry I yelled at you. There were too many thoughts running through my head. You came to talk at the wrong time."

"Sorry your…err…friendship with Weasley and Granger ended."

"You don't really mean that."

"Not in the slightest," said Draco. "But it's the thought that counts, eh?"

Harry and Draco chucked, holding their large mugs. But neither of them knew that the other still felt hollow, because deep down they were both worried and troubled. Except now they had their best friend back.

--

Now that Harry had Draco by his side, he felt considerably better. He didn't have to take on the challenges the world threw at him alone.

He and Draco had spent nearly two hours in the Three Broomsticks just talking and laughing. The two of them also decided that after Halloween on Sunday, they would continue reading the books on becoming Animagi. Neither of them had really stopped; more like taken a break because of recent events, but they didn't want anything holding them back now, not when they were getting so close to the transformations.

And before Defense Against the Dark Arts class the next day, Harry told Draco he would go back to the Restricted Section before the Hogsmeade trip this weekend to see if he could find any more useful books.

As they were ushered into the classroom, Harry and Draco fell silent about their plans. They dropped their bags and took their seats to see Professor Lupin still standing in the doorway.

"Leave your bags, but don't forget your wands," Lupin said. "We're going to another room. I finally found the creature necessary for a lesson I've wanted to teach you since the first day."

The Slytherins and Gryffindors stood up, excited about what their professor was about to show them. Once they were on the first floor, they were led to the Staff Room. "We're going in there, Professor?" Lavender Brown asked.

"Yes, that's where the creature is," Lupin answered. "In you go."

Harry entered a room with numerous rectangular and circular tables with many chairs of various sizes and shapes tucked underneath. The curtain-less windows a few feet above their heads let in the sun's warm light. Sitting at the table with a stack of essay's in front of him was Severus Snape. He seemed lost in concentration and it wasn't until Lupin tapped him on the shoulder that he looked up – but Harry knew he had been ignoring Lupin. Lupin said Snape could stay if he wished, and, unfortunately, he did.

Lupin moved to the far right of the room where an old wardrobe stood. "In this wardrobe is a Boggart. Does anyone know what it is or what is does?"

Hermione raised her hand swiftly in the air. "A Boggart is a shape-shifter. It takes the shape of what ever a person fears most."

"Correct! Five points for Gryffindor," said Lupin. "That's exactly what it does. And today you're going to fight against one. Hermione, do you know what gets rid of a Boggart?"

"Laughter!"

"Exactly. Another five points," Lupin said. "When you see a Boggart it will become that which you fear most, but if you think of something humorous and use the correct spell, you can repel it. The spell is Ridikulus. Repeat after me: Ridikulus!

"Ridikulus!" the class reiterated in unison.

"Good. Now, get in line and let me see you tackle this Boggart. Wands out!"

Harry got in line behind Draco, but they were somewhere in the middle. He was nervous but excited to take on the Boggart because he wasn't sure what the creature would take the form of. Would it be Voldemort, the man who had tried to kill him? Or would it be a Dementor, a creature that sucked life and hope out of everything? Somehow, Harry wasn't sure.

Neville Longbottom had been pushed to the front and was first in line. "Ready?" Lupin asked. Longbottom nodded, his wand in his hand, but sweat was starting to bead at his forehead and his cheeks were growing red.

With hardly a whisper, the lock clicked on the wardrobe and the door opened slowly. At first, there was only a pale hand, but then the full, black-robed body of Severus Snape emerged. Longbottom looked highly nervous, but Lupin said, "You can do it, Neville. Just think of something funny. Longbottom pointed his wand at the approaching Snape, closed his eyes, and said, "_Ridikulus!_"

Snape was suddenly wearing a frilly, pink dress that was too tight in the wrong places. He also worse a matching hat and was holding a purse. Longbottom opened his eyes and smiled.

"Next!" Lupin called as he glanced over his shoulder at the real Snape. "Good job, Neville!"

Harry, too, looked to see Snape's face red with embarrassment, but he turned away to continue working. Harry grinned.

Ron was next and he didn't look happy about it – his cheeks and ears were nearly as red as his hair. As soon as he stood in front of the Boggart, it turned into a giant spider, eight hairy legs and numerous black eyes.

"Ridi—!" Ron tried. He cleared his throat. "_Ridikulus!_" The spider's thin limbs became encased in plaster, as if it had broken all its legs, and could no longer walk.

"Marvelous! Seamus, you're next!" Lupin said.

Finnigan's Boggart turned into a Banshee, which wailed until it lost its voice. Next was Patil, who Boggart changed into an arm-raising zombie, but when the zombie gained better skin, she laughed.

Then Hermione was up. Her Boggart was McGonagall, who yelled, "You are expelled!" Hermione gave a whimper, but yelled "_Ridikulus!_" and McGonagall said, with a smile, "You are Head Girl!"

After a few others, Draco's chance was up. Harry could see his reluctancy to go. Behind them, Ron whispered, "Scared, Malfoy?" Draco gave him a dirty look and then stepped forward. Not a moment later, the giant snake turned into blond-haired Lucius Malfoy. He had a horrible smirk on his pale face as he held his black cane. Draco glanced at Lupin, who gave him a reassuring nod.

"_Ridikulus!_" Draco shouted. Mr. Malfoy shrunk considerably in size until he was as tall as a five-year-old boy. His hair was too long and his robe was too big. The cane now lay on the ground, unnoticed. Draco looked relieved, to say the least, and went to the back of the line.

Now, it was Harry's turn. As he walked forward, he glanced behind him to see Snape's eyes focused on him. Lupin, also, was keeping a careful eye on him and looked somewhat wary at what was about to happen. But before either of them could do anything, the Boggart changed.

Standing before them was another Harry. He was the same age as the real Harry and was even wearing the same clothes, but a terrible grin was upon his face. He reached into his pocket and took out his wand – the exact one the real Harry was holding.

"No," Harry whispered, not realizing he had said it. He hadn't been expecting his Boggart to change into him. He was almost too stunned to think of something funny. But he yelled, "_Ridikulus!_" and the Harry opposite him turned into a girl with long, dark brown hair and round glasses.

Lupin stepped forward, and the Boggart turned into a white, hovering orb that Harry knew to be the moon. It then became a balloon and popped.

There was silence in the room as they watched their teacher and recollected on the Boggarts they had faced. "Great job today. You handled the Boggart exceptionally well. I know not all of you tackled it, so maybe we'll save that for another day," said Lupin. "Have a good day. You're dismissed."

Harry was still standing near the wardrobe, thinking of his Boggart. He could barely hear the other students leaving the room or Draco call to him to say he would meet him in the common room or Snape shuffling his papers. He was too focused on what had just happened.

"Harry. Harry, are you all right?" Lupin asked.

"Err…yeah, I'm fine," Harry said, looking at his professor.

"You weren't expecting the Boggart to be you, were you?"

"No, I wasn't," Harry replied. "I thought of Voldemort and of those Dementors, but neither seemed…strong enough, I guess."

As they exited the Staff Lounge with Snape behind them, Harry asked, "What does it mean that the Boggart is me, Professor?"

"You obviously fear yourself in some way," said Lupin. "Is this true?"

"I don't know," explained Harry. "I guess it must be." There was a gap before he said, "I don't think I necessarily fear myself, more of what I can do – what I'm capable of."

--

As the rest of the school left for a day out in Hogsmeade, Harry traveled through the tunnels to the Restricted Section of the Library with a few old books to swap for new ones. Once he had three new books with fresh information, he put them under his pillow, grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and Marauder's Map, and set off for Hogsmeade.

Harry met Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle outside the Three Broomsticks. It was so crowded in the street that he felt it was safe enough to take off the Cloak and stuffed it in his robe pocket. Upon walking into the Three Broomsticks, they saw that it was filled with people. Not a single table was open, so they decided to move to the Hog's Head – a lesser known pub.

The pub was considerably dimmer and smellier than the Three Broomsticks, but they sat down at an old wooden table nonetheless. And after a few minutes, they got used to the smell of goats.

"What'll it be?" the bartender asked.

Harry had seen him during the summer when he came to hear Lupin and Snape's conversation, but it wasn't until now that he really looked at the man. There was something about him that seemed so familiar, but even as Harry looked into his bright blue eyes, he couldn't quite catch it.

"Five Butterbeers," Draco said. They all handed over some money.

As they waited for their drinks, Harry got a very distinct feeling that someone was watching him. He glanced around the pub to see a man sitting in the corner with a Firewhiskey in his hand. His hood covered his face and there was scarcely any light where he sat, so Harry couldn't make out any features, except that the man looked gauntly thin.

Harry turned away as the bartender brought over five mugs. After a large gulp of warm Butterbeer, he felt vivacity go through him, as if he had been bestowed new energy.

"Tomorrow's Halloween," said Blaise with a smile. "You know what that means."

"There's a feast?" Crabbe and Goyle asked.

"The Halloween Night Raid!" Blaise exclaimed.

"The what?" Harry asked.

"You haven't heard of it?" Blaise turned and said, "Surely, you have, Malfoy."

"Nope. Do tell," Draco said with interest.

"Well, first and second years aren't allowed, that's probably why you haven't heard of it. And third years aren't part of the actual raid, we can only be look-outs," explained Blaise.

"But what is it?" asked Draco.

"The older blokes ransack the school during the Midnight Hour, you know twelve to one. They write on the walls, make loads of noise, and, usually, bewitch the suits of armor to do something," said Blaise. "It's harmless fun. Flint asked if me if we all wanted to join. So what do you say?"

There were murmurs of agreements and excitement. Harry couldn't wait because he hadn't done anything thrilling so far this year and didn't want it to be ruined because of Black.

"Do the other Houses join in?" Harry asked.

"Hell no," laughed Blaise. "It's only ever been the Slytherins that do it. And it's only ever been boys, too."

"The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws would never do it – they'd chicken out," said Draco. "I'm sure the Gryffindors would join it, but not with us."

Harry drained the rest of his mug as Blaise said, "Flint said that if we want to join the raid, we have to wear trainers because we'll most likely be running a lot and dark clothes so we can't be easily seen. And we have to be in the common room at eleven-thirty to get ready."

The four of them spoke about what they thought tomorrow's Halloween Night Raid was going to be like before exiting the Hog's Head. Harry looked over his shoulder to see that the man was still sitting there, his face covered in shadow.

"Harry, you'd better go before we get back to the castle," Draco said a few hours later as the sky was beginning to darken. "Someone might've noticed your absence."

As Harry walked back to Honeydukes, he saw Ron, Hermione, and Neville Longbottom. With the Invisibility Cloak covering him, he remained unseen. He noticed that they seemed perfectly cheerful as they carried new products and sweets from Zonko's. Longbottom dropped a small slip of parchment with a few words scribbled on it, and although he tried to catch it, it blew away with the wind.

Realizing he had to get back, Harry quickened his pace and was soon back in Hogwarts.

**A/N: **Hey guys! I hope all of you are well! I hope the beginning (or middle) of school isn't wearing you down too much. I know I miss sleeping in during the summer and relaxation! I'm updating the chapter Thursday night (as I sometimes will during the school year) because I have class tomorrow during the day and then hanging out with some friends afterwards, and I would hate myself for forgetting. I have a terrible memory, even for important things! And I'm sure you'd rather have the chapter a day early than a day late! Have a fantastic weekend in memory of those whose lives were lost on 9/11. Cheers!

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Preview of Chapter 24—

The Halloween Night Raid:

The time for the Halloween Night Raid arrives, but not all turns out well when Harry realizes Black has entered the castle…


	24. The Halloween Night Raid

"Halloween wraps fear in innocence / As though it were a slightly sour sweet / Let terror, then, be turned into a treat."  
Nicholas Gordon

**24**

**The** **Halloween Night Raid**

Halloween arrived the next day with a somewhat cloudy but otherwise sunny sky. Chilly breezes swept the grass into rhythmic dances as the trees' branches swayed. Though no decorations were shown during breakfast and lunch, Harry knew the Great Hall would be highly adorned in just a few short hours.

But with nothing to do but wait for the feast and raid, Harry, Draco, and Blaise went for a walk around the Black Lake. Though the Invisibility Cloak covered Harry, he joined in the enthusiastic conversation about the upcoming Quidditch match, which was in a fortnight.

"You're gonna have real competition against the Gryffindors," Blaise said to Harry.

Draco laughed incredulously. "They're no competition, not against Harry." He puffed his chest out and added, "Now if I were on the team, it would be even fiercer."

Harry and Blaise laughed. "If you're so good, why aren't you on the team, oh Great One?" Blaise asked.

"There aren't any open spaces for a Chaser," replied Draco. "They only agreed to have Harry join because they needed a Seeker."

To Blaise, Harry said, "He is good, you know." With a smile, he added, "But not as good as I am." Blaise laughed, though Draco looked slightly sour.

Out of the corner of Harry's eye, he could have sworn he saw the outline of a large, black dog near the Forbidden Forest.

Was it the dog he had met at the Dursley's or was it really the Grim? If it was the friendly animal he had fed all those months ago, then how had he gotten all the way here? But deep down Harry couldn't help but feel that it might be the Grim. Maybe that was why Lupin had been so wary when Harry had told him of seeing the animal in Diagon Alley.

"Did you see that?" Harry asked.

"See what?" the other two asked.

Not wanting them to know he was alarmed, Harry muttered, "Nothing. Must've been my imagination."

Only a few hours later, and Harry's imagination couldn't have come up with what he saw in the Great Hall. There were floating pumpkins, hovering orange and black candles, ghosts flying in glee, and fake bats zooming through the air. Not a single seat was empty. Students and Staff ate devouringly and happily as the ghosts told ancient, horrific tales.

The feast and celebration went well into the night. Harry and the other kept checking the clock to make sure they had enough time to prepare for the raid. When the clock chimed eleven, the last students and professors left the Great Hall. Though the others were getting ready for bed, numerous Slytherin boys were preparing for something much more exciting.

As Harry dressed in a black shirt and trousers and tied the laces of his old trainers, he checked his watch. It was nearly time to meet the others in the common room. He went toward the door to wait for Draco and Blaise, but stopped and turned back.

Should he take his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map just in case a teacher came? Harry wasn't wearing a robe, so he decided against taking the Cloak, but he went to his trunk to get the map, which he squeezed in his trouser pocket.

"Come on, we're gonna be late," Harry whispered.

The three of them walked past the slumbering forms of Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott until they were in the common room that held about twenty dark-clothed teenage boys. Flint, who was the leader of the raid this year, was standing on a chair.

"Welcome to the Halloween Night Raid!" Flint said animatedly. "The rules are as follows: one, no violence; two, writing and drawing on the walls can only be non-permanent; three, the raids take place on floors two to six only; and four, enjoy yourself! This year, the third year look-outs will be on the sixth floor to make sure Dumbledore doesn't come down. Now, if you _do_ get caught by a teacher, don't rat anyone else out. Don't even mention the raid at all. If you see Filch or Mrs. Norris, hide. If you see Peeves though, tell him to wreak havoc."

Flint continued, "As usual, we bewitch the suits of armor, and this year I thought we could have them dance outside Dumbledore's office until morning." There were numerous laughs from the group at the thought.

"Remember, you can go to the different floors during the Midnight Hour, but it would be best if you stuck to one. Lastly, everyone must be back in the common room by 1:15," Flint said. He checked his watch. "It's 11:45, so let's head out."

Harry followed the pack as they left the common room. Flint came up behind him, making sure that Snape hadn't awoken from the noisy footsteps. "Flint, can the third years be more than look-outs?" Harry asked. Draco and Blaise looked at Flint expectantly.

"Sure, why not. But your main priority is keeping watch. Remember that," Flint said as they walked through the numerous dark paths to the Entrance Hall. "Stay on the second floor until I say it's twelve."

Harry, Draco, and Blaise hid behind a suit of armor that was wedged in a corner. They could see Flint another older boy that they didn't know hidden in a corner where the dim torchlight didn't reach.

After a few minutes of silence, Harry took out the Marauder's Map. He glanced at it as Draco and Blaise were turned because he didn't want them to think he had taken it out of fear that the might get caught. At the moment, the only teacher patrolling was Lupin on the fifth floor. Dumbledore was pacing in his study and the others seemed to be sleeping. But he knew a loud enough commotion would easily wake them.

Harry put the map away just a minute before Flint yelled, "TWELVE! WREAK HAVOC!" Flint's booming voice echoed through the corridors on the second floor and Harry was sure it had made its way to the higher levels.

Harry, Draco, and Blaise got from behind the suit of armor and not a second later, Flint pointed his wand at it. "_Piertotum Locomotor!_" The metal body unstiffened, the sound of old metal moving for the first time sounded loudly in the hallway as additional suits of armor came out of their slumber, and headed towards the Dumbledore's office.

The three third years raced to the sixth floor as they watched the older students jump out from behind corners, statues, and still rigid suits of armor. They immediately began to draw Halloween and anti-Gryffindor images on the walls with their wands, bewitch the suits of armor, set off fireworks, make some of the artwork shake on the wall, and run down the corridors noisily. When Harry was on the fifth floor, he saw a sixth year boy with blond hair holding toilet paper. He seemed to be covering the painting with it as a joke.

Once on the sixth floor, Harry kept an eye on the stairs leading to the seventh while writing "HALLOWEEN!" on the wall. Draco followed the example of the boy below and began putting toilet paper over the paintings and statues. Blaise drew a full moon and a tombstone on the wall with his wand.

"When Muggles draw and write on the walls, they call it graffiti," said Harry to Draco and Blaise as they watched the older students continue to raid the school.

"Graffiti?" asked Draco. "That's a weird word."

"Sounds funny," Blaise said with smile. "I'm gonna _graffiti_ the wall to say 'I AM KING.'"

"Well, I'm gonna write 'RULER OF THE WORLD,'" said Draco and the two of them ran off.

Harry stood against the wall, his body cloaked in darkness as he watched the steps. Looking down another corridor, he saw no one except the drawings and toilet paper that had been left behind. He could hear shouts, loud footsteps, and a distant whizzing of a firework coming from another corridor.

Harry, Draco, and Blaise took turns leaving to raid the sixth floor. After a half-hour of the Slytherin boys running amok, the raid had a scare. Filch was apparently on the fourth floor and had, obviously, seen what had happened to the walls. About six blokes had been writing when Filch appeared and he had nearly seen them. Except they managed to get into an empty classroom.

But knowing Filch would go to Dumbledore or send Mrs. Norris to continue patrolling, Flint had, somehow without revealing himself, scared Filch enough that he fell backwards into a room where the door was open. They locked the door behind him so he couldn't get out.

Harry was told of this a few minutes later by a laughing Higgs, who witnessed the ordeal. "It was bloody amazing! Wish you could've been there! You should've seen the look on Filch's face!" he explained through between laughs. "Oh, and if you happen to see books flying around, it's because some bloke managed to get into the library and jinx them. Great idea, innit?" He then walked away, twirling his wand happily between his fingers.

This time, Draco and Blaise left, going down different corridors to draw, write or bewitch something, leaving Harry to guard the stairs. As he stood there, mostly hidden in shadow, he heard something that sounded like the fluttering of wings and looked up to see three old, dark-brown books flapping their covers like birds down the corridor. He watched them turn the corner, leaving the hallway almost completely silent. Harry didn't see anyone as he guarded the floor; he knew the others were moving through the corridors and by now they would be on the other side of the castle.

Suddenly, a bright wand light was coming toward him, and he couldn't tell who it was. Slightly out of breath, Adrian Pucey appeared in the torchlight. In one hand was a blue firework. "Potter?" he called. "Potter, are you here?"

"I'm here. I've been keeping watch on the stairs," Harry said as he stepped into Pucey's wand light.

"Good. Well, I've been wanting to set off this firework, but there's too many going off in the other halls. Do you wanna help me light it?"

"Of course. Never actually set lit a firework before."

"There's a first for everything," Pucey said, walking a few feet down the corridor as Harry followed. "I'm gonna need you to hold it. Once I light the end with my wand, let go." Harry took the firework and aimed it slightly up. Pucey pointed at the end of the firework as he said, "_Incendio!"_

Harry released his grip, thinking it was going to drop to the ground, but it stayed hovering. It seemed to be preparing itself for the real show because it was twirling rapidly in the air and making a high-pitched whistling of a teapot with boiling water.

With a _pop!_ the firework went off, and a blaze of orange, yellow, and green swirls set off down the corridor, illuminating the area and the glistening words on the walls. Harry grinned at the sight as Pucey laughed to himself.

As the buzzing swirls glowed throughout the hall, Harry saw a figure near the stairs. He turned quickly to see the thin person run up the stairs.

"Wait!" called Harry. "You're not supposed to go up there!"

"Forget it, Potter. He'll realize soon enough when he notices no one's there," said Pucey, who then left Harry to inflict more chaos in the last ten minutes before time was up.

The firework turned the corner as Harry went back to his hidden corner. He waited a few minutes, but still the person didn't return, so he began to make his way up the stairs.

"Harry, what're you doing?" Draco asked from behind him. Blaise stood there, too, some toilet paper stuck to his hair.

"I saw someone go up there," Harry replied, stopping in the middle of the stairs.

"Doesn't matter," Draco said. "Just don't tell Flint."

Harry nodded before going down the steps. "Blaise, there's some toilet paper on your head." Blaise swapped it off hastily.

The three boys stood guard until one in the morning, like they were supposed to. They were about to leave, ready to make their way down, but then an ear-splitting scream echoed through the halls from the seventh floor. Nervous they were going to get caught, Draco and Blaise ran off to join some older students at the end of the corridor.

But Harry stayed and hid in a corner shrouded in darkness. Hurried footsteps echoed loudly as the person came down the stairs. He couldn't see who it was, so he followed the dark figure.

Harry continued to trail numerous feet behind the heavily breathing person, who was half-running, half-walking. When the large figure made it to the first floor as Harry stared from the stairs, he saw that the person was going toward the main doors. Harry took out the Marauder's Map to see who this mysterious person was. After opening the map and finding the name, Harry was stunned.

How did Sirius Black get inside the castle? Hadn't the Dementors sensed him? Hadn't somebody seen him?

But then Harry realized somebody had seen Black – he had.

"Merlin, I was so stupid," Harry muttered to himself. "How could I have not realized?" He practically kicked himself at his foolishness, but he would be even more of an idiot if he didn't at least attempt to catch Black while he still had the chance.

Still holding the map, he ran past the Dementors and onto the grounds. The dark figure was retreating in the direction of Hogsmeade. No doubt Black was going to Apparate.

When they were far enough from the castle, Harry yelled, "Black!"

Sirius Black turned as he ran down the hill and tripped. Hastily, he got up and nearly fell again as he made his way through the gate into Hogsmeade. But Harry couldn't understand why Black was running away from him and not at him.

Just as they entered Hogsmeade, with both of them full-out running, Harry called after Black once more. He saw a light go on above the Three Broomsticks and Madam Rosmerta, her hair pulled back in a bun, looked out. Her eyes widened in fear and she covered her mouth with her hand from shock at seeing the escaped criminal.

Black stopped halfway down the street and, without realizing, Harry stopped as well. Black turned to look him with dark, hollow eyes, before he Apparated.

"Harry, are you all right?" Madam Rosmerta called after opening her window.

He was still staring at the spot where Black had stood. Up until that moment, he felt uncomfortably hot from running, but now he felt unusually cold. Harry turned to see three Dementors coming toward him. He pulled out his wand and tried to Stun the cloaked creatures, but his efforts were futile.

Harry dropped to his knees as the cold, the darkness, and his own terrible memories engulfed him. Madam Rosmerta was yelling at the Dementors, but he could barely hear her above the sound of another woman screaming. Then he fell forward and everything went dark…

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**Preview of Chapter 25—****Don't Think Twice:**

Harry learns more about what happened on Halloween night, he comes to terms with the fact that friendships have ended, and more security is established for the school…


	25. Don’t Think Twice

"The real questions are the ones that obtrude upon your consciousness whether you like it or not, the ones that make your mind start vibrating like a jackhammer, the ones that you "come to terms with" only to discover that they are still there."

–Anonymous

**25**

**Don't Think Twice**

Soft but panicked voices seemed to be all around him and he couldn't decipher who was whom. Feet were shuffled and curtains ruffled, but then someone stomped a heel, and as silence fell around the room, Harry opened his eyes.

"Someone, please, explain to me what has happened here," Dumbledore said, calmly.

"Albus, Sirius Black got into the castle forty minutes ago," explained McGonagall. "He entered Gryffindor Tower."

"How did he manage to do that, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked.

"I interrogated the Fat Lady; she said he asked for the password and he gave it," said McGonagall, "but she told me she had no idea the man was Sirius Black. It was dark and she didn't know. She did say that he appeared to be reading from something."

"Have you inquired into what he was reading from?"

"Not yet, Albus."

Dumbledore sighed lightly. "No one was harmed I hope."

"No one was harmed, but it was a close one for one student. Mr. Ronald Weasley could tell you the story better than I, but he told me he awoke to find Black standing over him with a knife. He screamed and Black ran for it."

"And Harry?"

"No one knows how he got outside or what really happened. You'll have to ask him," McGonagall explained. "He must have seen Black and pursued him into Hogsmeade. Madam Rosmerta found him unconscious from the Dementors."

"Yes, I received a letter from her," Dumbledore said.

There was silence for a moment before Snape's drawling voice said, "If I may, Professor. How did Black acquire the password to Gryffindor Tower? Surely, no student would give it to him."

"I don't believe any teacher would either, Severus," Dumbledore said firmly. "Check on the students in the Great Hall and a permanent patrol for the rest of the night is in order."

Harry heard numerous footsteps leaving the Hospital Wing, where he currently was. The white curtain in front of him was pulled aside by Dumbledore, who came toward him and sat at the edge of his bed. He took out a piece of chocolate and handed it to Harry, who took it gently.

"Are you feeling all right?" Dumbledore asked.

"I guess," said Harry, who sat up and bit off some of the chocolate.

"What happened?"

"I was keeping guard for the…"

"Halloween Night Raid, I know," said Dumbledore. "It didn't used to be just the Slytherins."

"I didn't want to tell," Harry said. "Well, I was watching the stairs that led to the seventh floor, but someone got by me. I thought it was just another student, but about ten minutes later, I heard a scream and the same person came down the steps. Soon after I realized it was Black, so I chased him and when we got into Hogsmeade, I called after him. Madam Rosmerta heard and she saw Black, but he Apparated and then the Dementors came. I don't remember anything after that."

"Why did you follow him, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes curious.

"If you're talking about the rules you gave me, Professor, then I forgot about them. I was only thinking of getting to Black," Harry said as he looked away.

"I wasn't talking about the rules," Dumbledore said. "I was talking about you personally."

"I guess it would be because I've only known who he was for a few months and already he's completely ruined my life," said Harry as he half-shrugged. A moment later, he asked quietly, "What happened in Gryffindor Tower?"

Someone else in the room said, "What do you care, Potter?"

Harry knew it was Ron, but he didn't answer back. Dumbledore's bright blue eyes were looking at him with an unreadable expression.

"Mr. Weasley, would you be so kind as to tell me what happened an hour ago," Dumbledore said.

"Professor McGonagall already told you, Professor," Ron said timidly.

"I would like to hear it from you. She might've left out a few crucial details," Dumbledore said as he got up and pulled the curtain away, revealing the red-headed boy sitting in bed.

p"Um…I was sleeping, but heard a sound, and at first I thought it was in my dream, but then I opened my eyes. And in front of me was a man with long, black hair and dark eyes. It was Sirius Black, I knew," answered Ron. "He was holding a knife over me, so I screamed. He backed away and then ran out. Professor McGonagall came in a minute later."

Ron glanced, darkly, at Harry before turning away. Harry had accepted that Ron didn't want to be his friend, so why was Ron so angry with him? Did he actually blame Harry for not stopping Black? He couldn't honestly think that Harry had let Black through just to scare him, right?

"I see," Dumbledore said, not noticing the glares between the students.

"Professor McGonagall said the other students are in the Great Hall?" Harry asked.

"After Professor McGonagall informed me Black might be in the castle, I told her that all the students must be brought to the Great Hall for protection," explained Dumbledore. "Each Head of House went to get their students. Whilst all this was happening, I received a letter from Madam Rosmerta telling me you were in Hogsmeade surrounded by Dementors. She didn't know how to get them away, and my legs aren't as fast as they used to be, so when Professor Snape came to me to say you were missing, which I already know of course, I sent him to retrieve you." Dumbledore added, "You know, he can run quite fast when he needs to."

"Snape found me?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore said, "And yes, he did." The Headmaster looked out the window, where the stars still shone, and, as if knowing the time from that, said, "Must go and check on the rest of the school. Madam Pomfrey will be here the entire time to watch the both of you, and just in case two suits of armor are standing guard outside the door."

Dumbledore stood, walking a few paces, and then stopped to look back at Harry. "By the way, I thoroughly enjoyed the dance outside my office. Very amusing." He left the Hospital Wing with a smile.

--

"You may leave, Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey the next morning. "As can you, Mr. Weasley."

Though it was a new day, the sky outside was dark and gloomy, as if knowing that two-near deaths had almost occurred last night. The thick, monstrous clouds would show no mercy to the blue sky, which was being suffocated behind them. Harry could feel that it was going to rain any minute now.

As he passed through the doorway, someone knocked into his from behind. Ron scurried onward without a second glance at Harry, who continued down the corridor toward the stairs.

Standing a few feet away, Harry could see a group of fifth year Hufflepuff girls talking. As he got closer, he heard what they were saying.

"Did you hear what happened to Fred and George's younger brother?" one of them asked.

"No," another girl answered. "I don't even know why we had to sleep in the Great Hall."

"Me neither," a third girl said.

"I heard that Sirius Black was in the castle last night. Black almost killed that boy Ron Weasley," said the first girl.

A few girls put their hands over their mouths. A fourth girl said, "Let's go to breakfast. I bet more people will know the details of what happened."

As the shocked girls hurried past him, Harry realized why Sirius Black might have come to the castle. He had failed the first time during the summer to kill and had tried again last night. But it didn't make sense. Why would Black want to harm Ron? What could he possibly benefit from it?

And then it finally registered with Harry what had happened to his former friend. Sirius Black had tried to kill him. Harry stopped walking when he was somewhere on the third floor. The girl's voice echoed in his head. _Black almost killed that boy Ron Weasley._ Ron had almost died.

Well, so had he because of those awful Dementors. Just after they stopped being friends, they had both nearly died. _Stopped being friends,_ Harry thought. Well, if Ron or Hermione didn't want to be his friend, then maybe he shouldn't worry about them any longer.

"Yeah, I shouldn't care—no, I _don't_ care anymore about Ro–Weasley and Granger," Harry said to himself, his face heating up. "They wouldn't think twice about me if I got hurt."

Slightly angered and exasperated, he continued down the hall, but stopped when he heard hushed voices around the corner.

"—didn't come to attack Ron Weasley," said Lupin. "Clearly, he came for other reasons."

"Everyone knows Black was here to kill Potter," answered McGonagall. "He just didn't know…"

"Didn't know what?" Lupin asked.

"Obviously, he didn't know Potter is a Slytherin," said McGonagall. "He must have thought Potter would be in Gryffindor, like his father."

"That's quite true," Lupin muttered. "I would've made the mistake if I were in his position."

"Be thankful you're not, Remus," McGonagall said with an odd tone in her voice. "If I didn't despise him for what he did twelve years ago, I would pity him."

Harry, silently, walked toward the stairs and went down until he got to the Great Hall. One of the doors was open and he could see all of the Hogwarts students inside, talking excitedly and fretfully about the news of Black. He wondered whether any of them knew what had happened to him. By now, though, the entire school would be drooling over the news of Weasley.

"Harry!" someone called from his right. Slowly, he turned to see Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle staring at him with wide eyes.

As soon as he walked over he was bombarded with questions he didn't want to answer. But he replied nonetheless.

"What happened to you last night?" Draco asked, a letter with his father's condensed, curvy handwriting in his hand. "Where'd you go? I couldn't find you in the Great Hall."

"I wasn't in the Great Hall," Harry muttered as he sat. "I was…in the Hospital Wing."

"Why were you in the Hospital Wing? Were you hurt?" This time Blaise asked.

Draco, who was sitting next to him, asked under his breath, "You weren't in the Hospital Wing because you met Black, were you?"

"I'll tell you what happened later," was all Harry said.

A few minutes later, Dumbledore entered the room followed by the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Though Fudge remained near the doors beside Snape, Dumbledore moved to stand in front of the Staff Table. He cleared his throat and the room went relatively quiet.

"Good morning," began Dumbledore. "I'm sure most of you know that Sirius Black was within these castle walls last night. If you didn't know then I'm sorry to inform you so suddenly. Black got in some time before one in the morning and left shortly thereafter. But his short stay was anything but harmless.

"Mr. Ronald Weasley was nearly attacked last night by the escaped fugitive, who once again ceased to be caught by human or Dementor alike." Dumbledore paused to look at the students. "I have been speaking with the Minister of Magic and together we have decided that more security is in order. A few of the Ministry's Hit Wizards will be patrolling the corridors at night, so don't go wandering at night just to test them. Also, no student is to be alone in the halls and, for everyone's protection, the curfew is now six o'clock. Anyone who disobeys these rules will receive detention as well as the removal of points from their House.

"I do not wish these consequences upon any student, so regard these rules as if you made them yourselves. The most troubling consequence would be if you or a friend were harmed…or worse. So, please, heed my words."

Dumbledore paused as he pushed his half-moon spectacles higher up on his nose. "Lastly, all of today's morning classes have been cancelled to help you adjust to the alarming news and recently instated rules. Good day to you all."

Silence evaded the students and teachers present as they watched their headmaster leave with the Minister of Magic. Slowly but surely, conversation settled in, faintly growing louder.

Harry wasn't thinking of the new rules or of the consequences, he was wondering why Dumbledore had failed to mention the fact that he had followed Black. Surely it would have gotten to the newspapers that Harry Potter had chased one of his enemies. But no, not a word.

"That was rather gloomy, wasn't it?" Blaise asked as they all stood to leave. "Wonder what he'd say at a funeral."

**A/N:** Hey guys!! Thought I would update just a tad early. I look forward to updates just as much as you do! Hope your enjoying the fall/spring weather. I certaintly am! I dread the winter (too cold!) and the summer (too hot!)! To the Jewish readers, have a fantastic Rosh Hashanah on Tuesday! I'd be going to synagogue if I didn't have school, but either way I'll be sitting for hours listening to someone speak, so there's really no difference! lol! Have a great weekend!

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Preview of Chapter 26—Surreality:

Harry has a dreadfully vivid nightmare, and he gets a letter from Dumbledore prohibiting him from participating in Quidditch…


	26. Surreality

"Surrealism is destructive, but it destroys only what it considers to be shackles limiting our vision."

-Salvador Dali

**A/N: Warning: Graphic Violence. If you would like to skip over it, don't read the italics in the beginning. **

**26**

**Surreality**

_His fearful scream echoed off the trees around him. It seemed to travel a short distance before disappearing into oblivion, unlike Harry, who could go nowhere but the forest he was stranded in. The haunting sounds of the unfriendly animal found their way to his ears. He could hear the growling in the distance. The sound was coming ever closer, and that meant the animal was nearing, too._

_Harry was standing in too open of an area for him to be safe, but he couldn't get his feet to move. His eyes darted around the area of the near-pitch black forest. He could only see the closest trees. All others faded into the darkness. He couldn't see what was coming, but he could sure as hell hear it._

_The growling instantly got louder. Harry had expected the animal to be in front of him, but it was behind, and he didn't have enough time to turn completely. He barely saw the giant, black dog leap at him, its large mouth opened impossibly wide, baring all its yellow teeth and dripping saliva._

_Harry yelled and moved to get out of the way, but knew it had gotten him when he felt the intense pain of numerous sharp teeth breaking the skin and sinking into muscle. The sickening sound of the dog puncturing his flesh was unmistakable._

_His body hit the cold earth below him with a crunch as he fell onto sticks and twigs. The massive animal was on top of him now. The full moon shone in its entirely black eyes._

_The animal released his left leg as Harry let out another cry of pain. Its large paws with sharp claws were upon his chest and he could hardly breath because of it. The dog was so heavy and Harry knew he couldn't push it off if he tried._

_With one swish of a paw, the front of his shirt was ripped, baring his chest and the fresh, red scratches. The animal growled in hunger at the sight of his unprotected skin. Harry could smell its foul, burning breath against his face._

_Knowing what was going to happen, Harry turned his head away slightly, hoping that soon he would be unconscious. And before he knew it or was ready for it, he was screaming as he felt the animal's hot saliva on his chest mixing with his own blood. He could hear, once again, the slashing noise of his skin being torn into, and then the nauseating, ripping sound of his skin being torn apart._

_His warm blood spattered around him, going onto his face and neck; it spilled down the side of his body and puddled below him, soaking his shirt and the ground underneath him._

_Harry daren't look at what the infamous dog was doing to him. He pressed his eyes shut, but the tears that formed from the inconceivable pain slipped through and fell down his face, eventually mixing with his blood and the animal's saliva._

_Harry wailed in agony. Everywhere he felt pain, the animal's sharp teeth, the breaking of skin, and could no longer stand it. Why wasn't he unconscious yet? But as the animal teared at his body again, he started to grow numb. It was as if his pain had reached its greatest point and could only leave now. He hoped it didn't come back. Perhaps this was the beginning of death._

_There was a soft sigh a few feet away. Harry turned his head and opened his eyes, almost unwillingly, to see Dumbledore and Madam Rosmerta standing near him._

_"Pity. Just a pity," said Dumbledore. "Lost another good student."_

_"Was that all he was to you, Dumbledore – a student?" asked Madam Rosmerta in her high heels._

_"That and nothing more," answered Dumbledore. "After tonight, I probably won't even remember him."_

_"P-professor Dumbledore!" Harry tried. "Help me!" But they couldn't hear him. Even though Harry reached out to them with a bloody arm, they didn't look at him. "P-please!"_

_Harry felt helpless. There was nothing he could do to stop the large dog that was already have him as a meal and nothing he could do to get Dumbledore or Madam Rosmerta to acknowledge his parting presence._

_Soon he would be dead. Harry was helpless against the fate of the world…_

Harry awoke with a start. His breathing was heavy, tears were running down his face, and for some reason his chest hurt. Then, all of a sudden, he remembered his dream; nightmare, more like.

He wiped away the tears that he didn't remember shedding and then checked his watch. It was early in the morning – too early.

Thinking about his dream and about Dumbledore, Harry went to his trunk to retrieve the Marauder's Map. He tapped his wand against the parchment and looked for Dumbledore's name. He wasn't in his office, nor was he in the Great Hall. He was, most peculiarly, near the edge of the Black Lake, pacing. It seemed like his headmaster was thinking of something, but Harry really had no idea.

As he scanned the map, he saw that Lupin and Snape were both outside Lupin's office. That almost certainly wasn't a good thing and he wondered what they could possibly be talking about at this time of night.

Harry put the map under his pillow, where he kept his wand, and lay down. He stared at the green ceiling, wanting to get sleep, but sleep wouldn't come.

--

Harry couldn't remember falling back asleep, but was glad to have done so. Unfortunately, this time when he woke up he had to stay awake for good. Draco seemed to be stirring, and the two of them left a few minutes later with their books.

Yesterday evening, Harry had told Draco and Blaise the whole story of what had happened on Halloween night. Neither of them was particularly amused and said so by calling him "utterly stupid" and asking if he was completely out of his mind. Maybe he was, but going after Black had seemed the right ting to do that night.

After all the students and teachers arrived, except for Dumbledore, the post came hurriedly. Draco didn't receive a letter from his father. That's when Harry realized that his friend hadn't gotten a letter for a few days. Perhaps he had spoken to his father after all.

Blaise opened the _Daily Prophet_ as soon as it touched his fingers. Harry looked over his shoulder to see that the front page had a picture of Sirius Black on it. They knew what the title was going to be before they even read it.

**_Black Attempts Murder at Hogwarts_**

Harry didn't want to read the article; he knew the entire story already. Why bother?

"Ha! It says the Dementors were close to catching Black. They only caught Harry instead," said Draco as he read over Blaise's other shoulder. "But they didn't even mention you at all, Harry."

"I'd say Fudge wants it to seem as if the Black situation is going his way," Harry replied, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "And that means pretending they almost caught him."

"When it was actually you that nearly caught Black," said Blaise to Harry. As a first year boy reached for a glass of pumpkin juice, Draco swiped his hand away and took it instead, calling the boy a twerp.

There was a slight commotion at the end of the table closest to the doors. Higgs and Pucey were standing at the end, motioning towards the Gryffindor table, as they all laughed loudly. Montague, guffawing, banged his fist against the table, making the utensils near him jump.

Pucey and Higgs walked away, still smiling, to find a seat, but Harry motioned for them to come over. "What are you laughing about?" he asked. On either side of him, Blaise and Draco turned around to hear the news as well.

"I'm sure you guys know by now that the portrait of the ugly, fat lady on the seventh floor leads to the Gryffindor Tower, right? And to get into any House's common room you need a password, so how did Black get in on Halloween? You can't trick the portrait. Believe me; we've tried a few times," explained Pucey. "Well, me and Higgs, here, just heard that the pudgy bloke, Longbottom, put some of the passwords…_get this_, on a piece of parchment, and then i_lost it!_/i Black must've found it or something and used it to enter their common room."

Draco sniggered and looked past Crabbe and Goyle across from them at the Gryffindor table. Blaise practically snorted with laughter. But Harry didn't find that particularly amusing, though he smiled at the idea of Longbottom having to write down the passwords on parchment.

"Wish we had found it!" said Higgs.

Pucey chuckled and then said, "Yeah, me too." Suddenly, a thought seemed to have struck him and he exclaimed, "Oh, I just remembered! Filch was found just an hour ago in that locked classroom! No one had even known he was missing! Binns came across him by accident! He was sitting in the dark, petting Mrs. Norris the whole time! We saw him as he left; he looked _dreadful!_"

Harry, Draco, and Blaise burst into laughter at the news. Pucey saluted them jokingly and then continued walking with Higgs next to him.

"Watch out!" Parkinson shrieked. Harry looked up quickly and saw Hedwig flying toward him. She nearly scratched him as she dropped down onto the table.

"How come my letters always come later than everyone else's?" Harry asked no one in particular. Draco and Blaise shrugged as they continued their breakfast.

Uncurling the rolled parchment, Harry noticed the elegant, curly handwriting and knew whom it belonged to. He kept the parchment close, so that no one else could see.

_Dear Harry,_

_Because of recent events, it is in your best interest that I prohibit you from playing Quidditch this year. I thought of telling you this in my last letter some weeks ago, but could see no real danger in you continuing. Now, times have changed and the danger is imminent. Practices are nearly deserted except for the team, and it's not safe enough. I'm sorry to have to tell you this. If you have any questions or worries, please come see __me._

_Professor Dumbledore_

Harry read the letter over again, hoping that he hadn't just read that. No Quidditch? What was he supposed to look forward to? He loved Quidditch – the excitement and suspense of it. And if he couldn't play it, he didn't know what he would do.

After folding the parchment and putting it in his robe pocket, he vowed to see what he could do about this major Quidditch problem.

Harry wanted to speak to Dumbledore, but not about Quidditch; he was curious why his headmaster hadn't mentioned Harry in his speech and why he hadn't been in the paper. Not that he wanted to be in the paper or anything; it just seemed unusual that no one knew he had run after Black and nearly died from the Dementors because of it.

For now, he had to go to class, but he knew the distressing letter about Quidditch was going to stay in the back of his mind the entire day.

And stay in his mind it did. Harry couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he might no longer be playing Quidditch this year. The letter both upset and worried him. But he knew the letter would never have been written if Black hadn't escaped from Azkaban. The man had ruined his summer and was now ruining his school year, and Black didn't even know it.

"Potter, pay attention," McGonagall said as she walked past his desk that afternoon in Transfiguration. She stopped when she saw that he was drawing Snitches on the table. "Mr. Potter, if you don't clean that ink off the table this instant, I'll make you lick it off."

Harry cleaned the desk half-heartedly with his sleeve, still thinking about the godforsaken letter. When he left the class there was a glimmer of hope, but a lot of anxiety of what was coming next.

He dropped his books on a table in the common room before touching the stonewall. "Potter! Quidditch practice tomorrow evening at five!" Flint called. "Be there!"

Draco, who was now sitting at a table, starting his work, asked, "Harry, where're you going?"

"Just need to talk to someone. I'll be right back," replied Harry, who then left the room and proceeded down the dim corridor.

After a few turns, the dark door came into view. Harry knocked on it twice as he took the letter from his pocket. "Come in," Snape called. Harry opened the door slowly, feeling as he was going into forbidden territory. His professor looked up at him with dark, calculating eyes. Harry's green ones focused on the person ahead and his legs followed.

"What is it, Potter?" Snape asked, none too kindly.

"Professor Dumbledore sent me a letter saying I couldn't be on the Quidditch team anymore. He said it wasn't safe enough for me, but I _want_ to play. I _want_ to be on the team," Harry said, almost angrily. "Is there something you can do as my Head of House?"

Snape looked at him and glanced at the letter in his hand. Unemotionally, he said, "If Professor Dumbledore doesn't want you on the team, it's because he's thinking of your safety."

"I'm not any safer within Hogwarts than out on the Quidditch pitch, no matter how much security Dumbledore puts up!" Harry exclaimed. "Black always finds a way to get in!"

"Potter, calm yourself," Snape said. There was a pause before he continued, "There's no doubt I want Slytherin to win the cup, and that means you have to be on the team, so I'll speak to Professor Dumbledore. Perhaps Madam Hooch can watch over your practices."

Harry almost smirked at the fact that Snape nearly gave him a compliment on his Quidditch skills, but he managed to hide it. "There's Quidditch practice tomorrow evening at five, Professor."

"I'll do my best, Potter," said Snape. "No guarantees."

Harry nodded at Snape before turning to leave, but Snape's cynical voice stopped him. "Don't I get a thank you for rescuing you on Halloween night?"

Harry, his back still turned, exhaled slowly in irritation. He turned to look at Snape and said, sarcastically, "I greatly appreciate you doing something that _doesn't_ hinder my continuing to live happily. Pleased?"

Snape smirked and said, "I guess this means that you owe me, Potter."

Harry didn't like the sound of that, but seeing no further reason to stay, he left the room quickly.

--

As the door creaked open slowly, Harry suddenly felt as if he should just turn around and leave. Would he get any answers or be left with nothing but more questions? He didn't know, but he couldn't go back now. So he walked further into Dumbledore's office, his feet shuffling awkwardly.

"Hello, Harry," said Dumbledore pleasantly, his fingers intertwined as he gazed unwaveringly with bright blue eyes. "Please, sit down."

Harry sat, his eyes dropping momentarily away from his headmaster. When he turned, Dumbledore was still looking at him. "Is this about the letter I sent you a few days ago? I worry about the fact that you are out in the open for every practice. I received Snape's letter and I will allow Madam Hooch to be there – it is a nice medium. And you will notice in your next practice that I've asked a Ministry Hit Wizard to stand guard as well."

"Oh, actually, this isn't about the letter, Professor," Harry finally said. "I'm curious about why no one knew I had followed Black. You didn't say anything to the rest of the school and it wasn't in the _Daily Prophet_. Its just…not that I wanted to be talked about, I get enough of that already, but _why_ wasn't I mentioned?"

Dumbledore didn't speak for a moment. "You already said it—I didn't want to give you any more attention than you already get. I didn't think you wanted to be gossiped about at school and even around Britain, possibly beyond, for trying to catch Black and then being attacked by Dementors."

"I'm glad you didn't mention anything then," Harry said. "I was just curious about why no one knew."

"That's understandable. I would be quite inquisitive as well," said his headmaster. He paused, his blue eyes lingering on Harry, before he asked, "Is there anything else you would like to know? Any other inquiries?"

"Err…have you heard any news about Black's whereabouts?"

"I'm sorry to say, I have not. But if I find anything out that isn't mentioned in the newspaper, then I will be sure to notify you." Harry nodded at Dumbledore's words, feeling only slightly reassured about Black's mysterious situation at the moment.

--

As Harry walked down to the Quidditch pitch, almost two weeks later, for the first match of the year, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, he was grateful that Snape had gone to Dumbledore about his near absence from playing. He had played very well the past fortnight. Flint had even, surprisingly, complimented him on his flying and catching of the Snitch, even if he did whisper under his breath a moment later that he was Mudblood-lover. But the Slytherin team was dead wrong if they thought they were going to win the upcoming match easily. Everyone knew Gryffindor was a superb team and it would take a bit more than skill to beat them.

But Harry and his teammates was ready, on this breezy and slightly cloudy day, for the match.

"And the Slytherin team!" Lee's voice bellowed over the stands.

The team jogged out, brooms in hands, to the middle of the pitch, where a team in scarlet stood waiting. Harry looked to the stands to see waves of people cheering and applauding as well as booing in the four House colors.

"Captains, shake hands," said Madam Hooch. Flint and Wood, their eyes meeting in a glare, tried to break the other's fingers before Madam Hooch continued with, "Mount your brooms!"

"And they're off!" Lee shouted. "The Quaffle's been thrown in, the Bludgers set loose, and the Golden Snitch released. Let the game begin!"

More cheering ensued as the two teams rose higher into the air, waiting for the first move. And, finally, it came when Pucey caught the Quaffle.

"Pucey threw the Quaffle to Higgs. Oh, he was nearly hit by a Bludger!" jeered Lee. "Higgs' going toward the goalposts. Can he get past Wood? No, Wood hit the Quaffle away! No points for Slytherin!"

Harry watched what was going on around him from a few feet higher than the tallest goalpost. He wanted to make sure he didn't miss the Snitch. The other Seeker, Ackley Leven, was down below.

Fred Weasley hit the Bludger, which nearly knocked Flint off his broom. Fred and George laughed as they flew away; Flint called over Bole and Derrick, who nodded quickly as they spoke, smirks on their faces.

"Johnson has the Quaffle! She's moving fast! Higgs is trying to get in her way…but she went around him! Let's see how good the new Keeper, Montague, really is," Lee told the audience.

Harry watched as Johnson flew rapidly toward Montague, who was positioned and ready. She was obviously going to fake going one way or the other, but it was up to Montague to decide which. Johnson went left and Montague's eyes followed, but she suddenly curved right, just as Montague had thought, and threw she the Quaffle forcibly. He flew right, hitting the ball with his outstretched right hand. It nearly missed the Quaffle, but the red ball flew forward a few inches before Montague hit it again with his broom. The Quaffle went soaring.

"Montague hit the Quaffle! No points for Gryffindor!"

Out of nowhere, Bole and Derrick hit the two Bludgers, brutally, at the Weasley twins. One hit George in the stomach, while the other hit Fred in the face. George fell back off his broom, after having had the air knocked right out of him. The left side of Fred's face was bright red and he seemed unable to think properly because he could barely hold onto his broom.

"Penalty!" yelled Madam Hooch.

The Gryffindor side shouted in outrage and gasped in horror as George fell from the sky. But Leven and Spinnet came to his aid and managed to catch him. They brought him down safely to the ground before flying back up to the action. Members of the Slytherin team laughed and smirked, and the rest of the House in the stands were doing the same.

Ten minutes later, Flint managed to get the Quaffle into the goalpost for the first time, and soon after, Higgs got another Quaffle in. Fred had finally managed to regain himself; angry at what they had done, he hit a Bludger with as much force as he could muster at Pucey, who got hit in the chest and was knocked off his broom. The Gryffindors cheered excitedly.

A half an hour later, Lee said, "The score is fifty to forty, Slytherin!" Not only had Spinnet been knocked off her broom by Bole without using a Bludger, but Derrick had been knocked off as well. People were yelling from the stands, and Flint had taken to yelling back at the other students and even the commentator.

"Shut up, Lee!" Flint yelled from his broom. "You're stupid, bleeding comments aren't helping!" The younger students sitting near Lee gasped as Flint flew away. Harry saw that the captain was coming to speak with him. "Don't you dare catch that Snitch unless we have fifty points more than the Gryffindors."

Higgs scored a few minutes later, and Harry watched the Snitch, twitchingly, soar past him, but he ignored it and flew a few feet lower. Leven was flying around the entire pitch, watching alertly.

And then it happened, and Harry had to make a decision. Leven saw the Golden Snitch. This had happened before – Harry remembered clearly. He had caught the Snitch and Flint had been angry, even though they had won. Now, he was going to try catching the Snitch again, despite what Flint had said.

Harry and Leven flew after the Snitch, their shoulders practically touching, as they focused clearly on the small golden ball in front of them. Harry concentrated on the fluttering wings, on the small engravings on the surface, on the thought of his hand wrapping around the cool metal.

But then there were screams from the stands. Harry didn't want to turn to see what was going on, Leven was still next to him. One of them was going to get the Snitch. They were flying straight, so Harry couldn't understand why he was starting to shiver, why his skin felt cold to the bone. Suddenly, he thought he would never catch the Snitch.

For a fraction of a second, he turned his attention away from the flying golden ball. Black spots were invading his vision and he seemed to be slowing. On the ground, clearly staring up at him, was a large, onyx dog, and his heart seemed to skip a beat. Harry turned away, but his ability to see was getting worse, though he could distinctly remember seeing the Golden Snitch flying away from him and Leven flying after it. They were quickly leaving him behind.

At some point, he felt his broom stop completely, though only momentarily, before he and his unhelpful broom started to descend, slowly at first and then gained speed. His hands felt cold, as did his heart and his thoughts, and Harry couldn't help but close his eyes since he couldn't see much anyway. He, unintentionally, unknowingly, released his grip on his broom, and felt the air roughly hit his back.

People screamed in the stands, but the clearest was a woman's shrieking. Harry let himself drift away into melancholy unconsciousness.

**A/N: **Sorry for the slight delay! I meant to update Thursday night, but then I forgot, and Friday wasn't a good day for me, so it slipped my mind then too. I hope you can forgive me since I updated with this really cool chapter! Have a good weekend everyone!

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Preview of Chapter 27—A Black Fate:

Harry receives horrible news about his broom, a certain escaped prisoner enters the castle again, and Harry overhears the discussion of Black's fate…


	27. A Black Fate

"There are fates worse than death."

-George Felos

**27**

**A Black Fate**

People were breathing heavily, like they had just run, and whispering things to each other in hurried voices. Someone dropped a heavy bag at the end of his bed; he could feel the mattress fall slightly under its weight. The whisperings grew louder as someone entered the room with light footsteps.

"Quiet," Dumbledore muttered. Harry's eyes opened slowly. He could make out a hazy image of a man in blue robes with a long, white beard. "Harry?"

"I'm awake," he said, sitting up to see that the immediate area around his bed was surrounded by people. He grabbed his glasses off the side table and saw it was the Quidditch team, Draco, Blaise, Pansy Parkinson, and Dumbledore.

"Are you all right, Potter?" Parkinson asked, looking at him with overly worried eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry replied, looking at their miserable faces. "What…err…what happened?"

"You fell fifty feet off of your broom when the Dementors arrived, uninvited, at the Quidditch pitch," said Dumbledore. His voice held some compressed outrage.

"What happened with the game? Who won?" Harry asked. Seeing that Flint looked like he was about to punch his fist into the wall, he knew the worst had happened. "We didn't lose, did we?"

"The thing is, Potter," Pucey said, "you slowed down when the Dementors came and then fell off your broom, and Leven didn't notice. When he caught the Snitch, he turned and saw that you were on the ground below."

"We don't blame you," said Higgs. "We know it was the Dementors."

"Speak for yourself," Flint said angrily. Dumbledore told Flint to go down to the Dungeons to calm down; he left in a hurry.

"There's something else you should know, Harry," Draco said, looking away. They all seemed to take a step back, as if none of them wanted to be the one to tell him the news.

It was in that moment that Harry noticed the brown bag sitting at the end of his bed. "What _is_ that?" he asked slowly, not really wanting to know. He almost wanted to kick it off the bed.

"Its…uh…it's your broom," Blaise said.

"That's…no, that's not my broom," Harry said quickly, sitting up even more. He grabbed the bag immediately and opened it. His broom lay splintered and broken within as nothing more than pieces of wood and twig. He didn't know his mouth had dropped in shock and distress until after it had happened.

"When you fell off your broom," Draco added, "it blew away and landed in the Womping Willow."

Harry sighed, still staring at the bag of pieces. "Why did the Dementors come?" He asked Dumbledore.

"I had only previously told them that they couldn't enter the castle, so when they felt the substantial amounts of energy and excitement coming from the pitch, they were drawn to it," replied Dumbledore. "It's my fault for not considering the Quidditch games. I should have told them of it."

Harry nodded, but didn't look at him. "I don't blame you," he said unconvincingly, as he touched a broken piece of his broom within the bag.

--

When everyone finally left and Madam Pomfrey finally stopped looking after him, it was late in the afternoon. Of all the things that had happened that day, the one thing that bothered him the most was how harshly he reacted to being around the Dementors. No one else had become unconscious or had fallen off their brooms. He was the only one.

Harry remembered Lupin telling him that Dementors caused the prisoners in Azkaban to relive their worst memories, but the only thing that happened to him was unconsciousness. The only answer he could think of was that he was weak. And maybe he was. Maybe he had just never known it, and now the Dementors had finally just brought it to his attention. He was fragile and pathetic.

And he also had no broom.

But he recalled hearing about what Lupin had done on the Hogwarts Express. He had used some sort of spell to repel the Dementor. He would have to ask him how to do it, or maybe Lupin could teach him. Then he wouldn't be so anxious about seeing or going past them. Maybe then he would be able to defend himself against them. Maybe then he wouldn't be so weak.

--

Snow fell gingerly upon the school, like someone was sprinkling powdered sugar. The freezing air had little effect on the already frozen trees, whose branches were weighed down with snow. The sky matched the earth in color, and it was almost impossible to tell where they met. The world was beautiful in its vast serenity.

But Harry wasn't enjoying the stunning scenery; he was down in the Dungeons, in the overly green common room, writing an essay. Earlier that day, Lupin had been missing from class, and the substitute teacher had been Snape, who had assigned them all to write about the Wolfsbane Potion and its most significant use.

Draco, who had finished the essay earlier, sat beside him after having just read a new letter from his father, and was now flourishing his wand at a gawky first year boy's book, making it float just inches above the boy's grasp.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" Draco muttered again, laughing. "Harry, this is great. You have to try this. There's another first year with a book over by the fireplace."

"Maybe later. I'm trying to finish this essay," Harry responded, glancing quickly at the boy's distress. The smell of fairycakes hung in the air beside him as Crabbe and Goyle munched noisily on the sweet desserts, two at a time.

It was starting to get late because he and Draco had stayed in the Room of Buried Secrets after class to read and had gone to dinner late. Draco yawned, let the first year's book drop to the table, and folded his letter.

"I'm going to sleep," he said as he got up. "Don't spend too much time on that stupid essay. See you in the morning, Harry." Crabbe and Goyle followed him, fairycakes in hand, down the stairs to the dormitory.

Harry was only half-way done with the essay Snape assigned for a class that wasn't his. He wrote on and on, continually dipping his quill in his inkbottle. Ten minutes later, in the mostly quiet room, the words started to blend together as he became ever more tired. But that wasn't the only problem: Harry simply couldn't concentrate. He kept thinking about what had happened at the Quidditch match.

Since the essay wasn't due for a few days, he decided he would finish it tomorrow evening. The only other person in the common room was a dark haired fifth year girl, who had fallen asleep on the couch, a book in her hand.

Exhausted but somehow unable to go to sleep, Harry left the common room, deciding to take a quick walk. As he strolled toward the Entrance Hall, not nearly looking around the corner as much as he should for professors or Hit Wizards, his thoughts traveled back to Saturday once more. The chilling feeling, the unconsciousness – it had all been from the Dementors. When they were on the train, only he had been affected, and during the game, only he had fallen fifty feet because of their presence. No one had specifically mentioned it, but Harry didn't need anyone to tell him; he knew he was weak.

The Entrance Hall was dark except for a single torchlight above the main doors, which were open just a crack. Blue moonlight fell in through the doors, cutting the shadows in half with a long trail of light. Harry looked through, checking the stairs first to ensure no one was present, to see a dark-hooded creature in front of the castle.

There was a sneeze in the darkness and Harry stepped back from the doors, turning quickly to see who was there. A man in the picture above the first floor stairs was shifting in his sleep. Harry calmed, but his heart still raced.

Deciding to go upstairs, he took slow, silent steps, not wanting to be heard. Just as he got to the second floor, he heard fast footsteps below. Harry pressed himself against the wall to look down the stairs, but saw no one. Behind him came the sound of heavy footsteps drawing nearer.

Harry squeezed between the wall and a nearby suit of armor. Wand light came into view, and he could see a fat, squat man with a Hit Wizard badge pinned to the front of his robes.

Noisy footsteps on the first floor sounded below. Harry turned to see a dark, familiar figure nearing the front doors. The Hit Wizard neared the stairs, his wand outstretched before him, his wide and alert. He saw the figure and called, "Oi, you! What you doing?"

The person turned toward the Hit Wizard's light, which fell across the man's gaunt features. Harry and the pudgy man immediately knew who it was. Black had entered the castle once more, though he obviously wasn't planning on staying much longer because he ran for the doors.

"Stop! Stop now!" the Hit Wizard yelled. When Black didn't listen, the man pointed his wand and shot a Stunning Spell at him. Red light flooded the area, and if anyone had been looking, Harry would have been seen. The one person who might have was concentrating so harshly on capturing Black, who ducked at exactly the right moment. Black pulled at the handle of the slightly opened door, ducking again when the Hit Wizard threw another spell. It seemed the Hit Wizard knew he wasn't going to catch Black, so he ran from Harry and Black toward the higher levels.

As the man quickened his pace and turned a corner, Harry got out from behind his hiding place to see Black disappear through the doors. He thought of following, of attempting to capture him, but the Dementors were coming closer to the doors. Besides the fact that he didn't want to be in close vicinity of those bone-chilling creatures, Harry also didn't want to be locked outside with a madman. A long-fingered hand pulled the handle, which now had a layer of ice upon it, until the doors shut with a thud.

Black had evaded to be captured yet again.

--

"Oh, bloody hell. Not another notice," Blaise said as he, Harry, and Draco entered the common room the next morning. Harry hadn't told his friends what had happened, but he knew they were going to find out. Snape was magically pinning another announcement to the board.

"What's it say this time, Snape?" Flint asked from an armchair on the other side of the room.

"I'll let you find out for yourselves," the dark-haired man replied. Harry noticed him look at the clock on the wall before turning and leaving the room. It seemed like he was in a hurry.

Pucey inched toward the notice board with Bletchley, and Higgs, and began reading the announcement to the rest of the Slytherins in the room. "Listen up! It says that all Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures lessons will he held inside from this day onward. And that all morning classes have been cancelled today."

"Why?" a female voice asked. "Why the sudden change?"

Higgs answered with, "Doesn't say."

p"Well, I'm going to breakfast to find out," the girl said, blonde curls falling down her back. Her two friends followed her out the sliding door and not soon after the other Slytherins were walking out as well.

But Harry had other ideas of where he wanted to be at the moment. Something was definitely going on – Snape had checked the clock and morning classes were cancelled for some unknown reason. Feigning sickness by coughing, he told Draco that he wasn't feeling well and that he would see him in class.

"But don't you want to know what's going on?" his friend asked.

"Tell me in class." Harry coughed loudly again to make sure Draco believed him and then went back down the stairs.

Harry ran his hands against the stone wall. He knew it was here. One of the stones could be pushed in, and finally he found it. The wall disappeared, allowing him access to the dark tunnel of stone.

He took out his wand and entered the tunnel. "_Lumos!_" Since Harry could see a few feet in front of him, he began running as fast as he could without tripping over his feet. In a few minutes time, he was striding hastily up the steps toward the empty room. Just as he opened the spider-webbed room, Harry realized he had forgotten something.

He had forgotten the gold coin that allowed him to enter Dumbledore's office.

Though he didn't have the coin, Harry knew the words. But would it be enough to get him there? Did he need the metal of the coin touching his flesh?

"_Moenia Permeo_," Harry said aloud. The room around him vanished and he was suddenly in a room filled with boxes of former headmasters and headmistresses. When he heard voices, he unlit his wand, stowing it in his pocket. He sat cross-legged on the ground as he pressed his right ear against the door.

"—third time he's entered the castle, Albus," said McGonagall. Her voice was heavy with worry.

"I'm well aware of the fact, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "However, I have no idea how Black managed to get into the castle. The Dementors were guarding throughout the day and night. There seems no way he could have gotten past them. I am at a loss for an explanation."

"Is that why we're here, Professor?" Flitwick asked, squeakily. "To figure out how he got in?"

"As much as I would like to know the answer, I doubt standing around and guessing would get anything done," reasoned Dumbledore. "No, the reason you're here is because any minute now Fudge will be coming here to have a meeting with me. Our discussions will center on Black and, should he be caught, whether he should be given to the Dementors, or brought back to Azkaban."

Shy, smooth-voiced Professor Sprout asked, "But why are the five of us here, Professor Dumbledore, if this is a meeting intended only for you and the minister?"

Harry listened intently from the small, box-filled room.

"I trust all of you and value your op inions. I wanted you, Minerva, Pomona, Filius, Severus, and Hagrid, to help in the discussion. Black's fate doesn't just concern the Minister and me, it affects everyone, and I wanted those with an outside view, people more detached from politics than I, to express their thoughts and ideas."

"Yeh think we should give our opinions, Pro—" started Hagrid.

There was a knock on the door, which was opened not soon after. Shuffling feet walked forward as the door was closed. "Good morning, Dumbledore. I was not aware that this meeting was open to the public," Fudge articulated.

"It's not, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "I thought, given the circumstances and the matter to which we're discussing, that people I trust could be present. If you feel this should be a more private conversation, then by all means I will dismiss them."

"No, no. It's quite all right, Dumbledore," Fudge added quickly. "Let them stay."

"Ah, good," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "Well, let's get to our discussion. The quicker, the better, but certainly let's not rush. Who would like to give an opinion first? No one?"

"I will," Snape said, his footsteps sounding as he drew forward. "It is my opinion that Black be given the Kiss by the Dementors."

"Severus, if this is because of—"

"No, Professor, this isn't because of my past. I believe he shouldn't be brought to Azkaban because it's done nothing to restrain him so far. He was in there for twelve long years and suddenly he escapes. What makes you think he's going to stay there for any period of time once he's brought back?"

There were murmurs of agreement, but then McGonagall spoke up. "But do you think anyone really deserves a fate like that, Severus? I also think Black is a cruel, vicious murderer; I imagine we all believe that, but to be given the Kiss? If we bring him back to Azkaban, he can be put under more security and under constant watch. Then there would be no possible way he could escape."

"I think he deserves it," added Snape. "You said it yourself. He's a 'cruel, vicious murderer,' and he deserves, at least in my opinion, to be given that fate."

"I have to say, I disagree," piped up Flitwick. "A fate equal to murder would be murder itself, not the Kiss. I'm not saying we should kill Black, of course. I think it would be best to put him back in Azkaban and allow him to relive his worst memories there."

"Hagrid, Pomona, what do you think?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Oh. Oh, I'm not sure, Professor," replied Sprout. "Well, the Kiss seems a dreadful fate, even if the man is a murderer. To be more than a dead corpse but less than a living person is unbearable to think of."

"I 'ave teh say, even though I hate the ruddy murderer, at least in Azkaban he can think over wha' he did teh Pettigrew an' those Muggles," muttered Hagrid.

"He won't be thinking anything over," interjected Snape lividly. "If we send him to Azkaban, he will only be thinking of ways to get out."

"That may be true, Snape. Black escaped once, he might do it again," said Fudge. "But if I add more security to his cell, not just Dementors, but guards as well, then we might be able to contain him."

"Why are you so keen to keep him alive?" Snape asked the others.

"Why are you so keen to see him given the Kiss, Severus?" McGonagall asked of him.

"I'm not, it just seems more logical than having the possibility that he might escape again. And if one murderer is given the Kiss, than others might not be so willing to kill if that'll be the outcome they face."

"That may be true, but do you think the British Wizard Ministry wants to be known as a mob, who callously decides to be rid of their murderers, instead of people who want those harmed to have justice by allowing the murderers relive what they did for the rest of their lives?"

"To me the latter seems much more callous," said Snape.

"Those with terrible memories tend to think so," McGonagall declared.

There was a cold pause in which feet which shuffled and clothing straightened. Harry listened with such intensity and concentration that he almost forgot where he was. His ear was starting to become numb against the door, but he didn't care. He was too interested in the conversation than to think about an anesthetizing ear.

"Professor Dumbledore, wha' do yeh think should be done abou' Black?" Hagrid asked, trying to clear the air.

"You all make fascinating points. I must say though, I agree with those of you who think Black should go to Azkaban. I am a firm believer in seeing that the man be put back into a cell to think about what he did. Though it may seem as if he isn't fazed by the Dementors, I believe that he genuinely is. We all have terrible memories that haunt us," explained Dumbledore. "But nothing ever stays the same and if in due course we find that Black has done even more harm to the Wizarding World, I think we should consider Severus' idea. If something changes in the future, so can the outcome."

"Wise idea, Dumbledore, wise idea," mumbled Fudge. "It seems reckless to risk the reputation of the British government, and we all seem to have a majority say on this. Black will be sent to Azkaban for the time being."

A few people's footsteps sounded as the professors moved around the room, murmurs and tidbits of agreement or discrepancy being overheard by Harry. Above all the talk, he heard someone unfurl a piece of parchment and then a scratching of a quill. It seemed like Dumbledore was signing a piece of parchment.

"Thank you, Dumbledore," Fudge muttered. The scratchy sound of parchment being rolled back into a scroll could be heard.

"Albus, have you told Potter about the situation with Black and his parents?" McGonagall asked.

"No, I have not," he said. "He already seems troubled about Black. I didn't want to add to it."

"What situation?" Sprout queried curiously.

McGonagall sighed and then said gravely, "Besides killing those thirteen people twelve years ago, Sirius Black did something much worse…"

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Preview of Chapter

**28—Betrayer:**

Harry discovers more information about Sirius Black, and it's not anything he necessarily wanted to know…


	28. Betrayer

"One should rather die than be betrayed. There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though…betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope."

-Steven Deitz

**28**

**Betrayer**

"Besides killing those thirteen people twelve years ago, Sirius Black did something much worse, Pomona," McGonagall explained gravely.

"Worse?" Sprout asked, astonished.

"What could be worse than murder?" Flitwick wondered.

Harry listened with wide eyes, also seeking the answer.

"You both heard that the Potters were in hiding, correct?" They must have nodded because McGonagall continued. "They weren't just in hiding like the rest of the Wizarding community. Albus knew Voldemort was coming after the Potters and suspected that someone close to James and Lily was ratting them out, so Albus used the Fidelius Charm to protect them. Filius, I'm sure you can explain it better than I."

"The Fidelius Charm involves secret information hidden within the soul of a Secret-Keeper. This information is irretrievable until the Secret-Keeper chooses to reveal it."

Dumbledore continued, "I was going to be the Potter's Secret-Keeper, I almost insisted, but James decided it should be Black, his best friend. I thought it was fine, that they would be fine, since I knew they were safe. Voldemort could walk right past them and never know they were there. Little did any of us know that Black was working for Voldemort."

Sprout gasped aloud, as if watching a truly horrifying movie. Except this was real, all of it was real, every word, and had actually happened. Harry had heard this from Lupin. It was nothing new, and yet hearing it told like a horrible, child's tale made it seem like he was hearing it all over again. Chills ran down his spine and his heart was beating faster than normal.

"No!" cried Sprout. "He didn't!"

"Yes, he did," Dumbledore uttered. "Black gave the Potters' hide out to Voldemort."

"The no-good-stinkin' coward! He betrayed poor James and Lily to You-Know-Who!" howled Hagrid, outraged at the thought.

"Calm down, Hagrid," reasoned McGonagall. "It's all in the past now."

"I knows it is," said Hagrid, "but I was the last one teh see Black, I was. After Professor Dumbledore found out wha' happened, he sent me over teh the Potter's teh see t-the damage. Poor little Harry was covered in soot and cryin' amongst the rubble. Then Black came on his flyin' motorbike, sayin' that he should take Harry, but I had me orders from Dumbledore. Black said he wouldn' be needin' his motorbike neither and that I could have it. Didn' even think abou' why he wouldn' need it. Shoulda known it had been him. The motorbike would be too easy teh track.

"Imagine if I had given him little Harry! He would'a brought 'im straight to You-Know-Who teh finish 'im off!' wailed Hagrid.

"But—but why did Black say he should take Harry? What gives him the right?" Flitwick asked.

"Hardly anyone knows, but Sirius Black is Harry Potter's godfather," McGonagall revealed. It was a good thing Sprout and Flitwick gasped at the same time because Harry had done so at the same time and he would have been heard.

It all made sense. Dumbledore didn't want Harry out of the castle, not only because Black was after him, but because he thought that Harry might go after Black. And now that he knew the truth, he did want to pursue the man; to hear his own quick breathing as he chased Black, to feel his own heart beating rapidly in his chest as he got closer to the madman, to feel the solid, smooth wood of his wand in his hand as he stared the murderer in the face, to feel cold skin against his hands as he wrapped his fingers around the betrayer's neck.

Harry would kill Black for what he did, even if it was the last thing he did.

"His godfather?" Sprout stammered. "And Potter doesn't know?"

"If I told him, if any of us told him, the idea of it would haunt him," Dumbledore divulged. "I imagine finding out that the man who betrayed his parents and who has been trying to kill him is his godfather would be quite disturbing. I chose not to for his own sake and sanity."

Harry was practically shaking now. His mind, his heart, his very soul hurt. And he had to leave. He closed his eyes and said the words from the coin and found himself back in the cob-webbed room. He was breathing erratically and could feel the pit of his stomach boiling. Letting out a small grunt, he banged the back of his clenched fist against the nearest wall, and then he let out a long breath, his eyes closed tightly, as he pressed his forehead against the wall. Harry turned around to put his back against the wall instead and allowed himself to fall gradually down until he was sitting on the floor.

Harry rubbed at his eyes, preventing the tears from even leaving them, as he exhaled deeply.

--

When Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle came back from breakfast, Harry was slumped in an armchair. He was staring blankly into the fire, his thoughts anything but. His friends came up to him and sat in the chairs nearest to him.

"Feeling better?" Draco asked, his right ankle resting on his left thigh.

"I guess," Harry replied nonchalantly.

"We didn't find anything out at breakfast like we thought we would," interjected Blaise from the closest couch. "Dumbledore and all the Heads of Houses were missing."

"And the big oaf Hagrid," added Draco rudely.

Harry was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't say a word. He just stared into the crackling fire. He could actually be out in the snow at the moment, that's how numb he felt from hearing what Black had done to his parents and at hearing what he was to Harry.

Draco leaned forward over the armrest of his chair to ask, "Harry, we don't have class, why don't we go to the Room of Buried Secrets to catch up on our reading?"

Without an answer, Harry got up and trudged toward the sliding door, practically pushing a small second year girl out of his way to put a hand on the cold, hard stone. Still in his seat, Draco said to himself, "I guess we're going then." The wall slid away, and Harry left the room, quickly followed by Draco.

After an hour in the Room of Buried Secrets, Harry hadn't read a single page. A burnt-orange book was clutched in his hands and up to his face where he could clearly read the words, but he didn't feel like doing anything at the moment. All his thoughts were concentrated on one man – Sirius Black.

The book fell to the floor as Harry sat up in his seat like a bullet. He couldn't believe he had been sitting around all morning, just thinking about Black when he should be finding him. Just more than an hour ago, he had been so determined to kill Black and now he was sitting on his arse.

Unfortunately, he couldn't just leave the castle to search for Black. Not only would his friends and Dumbledore notice his absence, but it would also be completely foolish if he got lost in the Wizarding World with Black roaming freely. But Harry had a better idea. Why leave when he knew Black would come to him?

Harry suddenly realized that Draco was staring at him over the top of his book. "Um, Harry…is everything all right?"

"No, nothing is all right," Harry groaned as he stood and began to pace.

"Care to explain?"

Harry stopped pacing and turned toward Draco, who had put his book aside. "I wasn't actually sick this morning. When Snape came in, I noticed that he was in a hurry, so after everyone left, I went to listen at Dumbledore's door. He, the professors, and Fudge were discussing Black's outcome, should he be found, and they decided that Black'll be sent to Azkaban…_like that will do anything to stop him from escaping again_."

"Is that why you're in a rut?" Draco inquired, getting annoyed. "Because of their decision?"

"No, that's not why I'm in a rut!" Harry exclaimed. "Today, I found out that the man who's trying to kill me betrayed my parents! He was my dad's best friend and he gave him and my mum up to Voldemort!"

Draco stood up and took a step forward. He said simply, "Harry."

"He betrayed them!" Harry turned away from his friend as a few tears rolled down his face. He didn't want Draco to see or know that he was crying.

"You didn't know about Black's past? You didn't know he did that to your parents?"

Harry hastily wiped at his tears before turning back. "How could I? No one ever told me!" He looked at Draco in astonishment. "I can't believe it! You knew, I_and you didn't tell me?!_/I"

"I thought you knew! I assumed Dumbledore had told you!"

Harry looked at the floor. He knew why Dumbledore hadn't told him, he had heard it firsthand from the man himself, and though he knew his headmaster was doing it to help him, Harry couldn't help but accuse the man for causing him pain. Maybe if he had found out when first coming into the Wizarding World then it wouldn't have been such a shock to find out later on.

"Do you also know that Black is my godfather?" Harry muttered, still facing the floor.

"Yeah. I know about that," Draco stated somberly. "My mother was a Black and my father has a way of getting information that isn't generally known to the public, so I've been told."

"Everyone knows more information about me than I know about myself."

Draco glanced between the floor and Harry, who was staring at his worn-out, fading brown trainers. In the silence, Harry heard a light sizzle and the two boys looked up to see a golden spark above them. Before their very eyes, it turned into a white candle.

Now, Harry and Draco shared a secret in the Room of Buried Secrets.

--

Why it took so long to get to the _Daily Prophet_ was beyond Harry, but the conversation about Black, which in the newspaper said had only included Dumbledore and Fudge, turned up as the front page article a week later.

Since neither Harry nor Draco had told Blaise, he was incredibly surprised when he unfolded the newspaper and read the bold letters. "He's going back to Azkaban? Look Fudge says that he 'felt it would be unbeneficial to give him the Kiss' and that a 'further decision will be made in the event of a change.'"

Harry glanced at Dumbledore. The long-bearded man was sitting in the head seat at the Staff table eating breakfast. He had no idea that the young man he was so keen to protect wanted nothing more than to be free of his constraints and be out in the open so he could face Black.

**A/N: **Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know if there was anything you especially liked or didn't like! Have a good weekend!

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Preview of Chapter 29—

Disillusioned Merriment:

Christmas arrives with a surprising gift, the thirteenth person stands at dinner, and Harry asks Lupin for help against the Dementors, but he isn't too keen to assist…


	29. Disillusioned Merriment

"Fear is only as deep as the mind allows."  
_-_Japanese Proverb

**29**

**Disillusioned Merriment**

As the weeks delved deeper into the snowy and chilling month of December, Harry thought of what he would do if he met Sirius Black, but so far there had not been a single word of him in the newspapers. He seemed to have disappeared off the face of the Wizarding World.

As the rest of the students went to Hogsmeade on Saturday morning, Harry stayed behind, not wanting to sneak away for a Butterbeer. He would much rather sneak around the Hogwarts grounds, where it was much more probable for Black to be, hoping maybe for a peep at him.

So as the other students giggled and joked cheerfully, sipping warm drinks and eating magical sweets, Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and wandered around the cold, snow-covered grounds, making barely discernible footprints in the snow. He shivered as he glanced into the forest of branches, which was creepier than if the trees were overgrown with dark leaves. Walking around the frozen Black Lake, Harry stared around him, hoping to catch the swishing of a black robe running toward the castle, but there was nothing.

The only other living creatures on the grounds were the two Dementors near the main doors. He could tell that they knew he was there since they seemed to facing him, though he was sure they didn't have a face.

After nearly an hour of walking, his fingers, toes, and ears were starting to numb from the cold. Harry entered the castle, quickly rushing past the black-robed Dementors, who turned as he walked by, to get into the warmth.

His search had been unproductive, but he hadn't been expecting to find him anyway. The two other times he had gone out, he hadn't seen Black either. But Harry wasn't giving up so easily.

--

Of all the gifts Harry had gotten on Christmas morning, the best and most surprising one was the last.

The most unfortunate were the presents he hadn't gotten and never would get again – from Weasley, Granger, Hagrid, and Mrs. Weasley. He would never be getting another Weasley sweater again. No more cheerful, misspelled words on stiff fairycakes. The others from Blaise, Draco, and Mr. Malfoy were both good and expected: another eagle feather quill from the Malfoy household for being a friend of the family. But the last was the greatest, although he had no idea whom it was from.

As he had untied and unwrapped the long, thin parcel, Harry had stared in amazement with wide eyes. He had almost yelled out at seeing the slender, polished wood with the thin bristles at the end, curved perfectly. The gleaming, golden words "Firebolt" had stared back at him with glee.

Now, he and Draco were outside in the courtyard, flying around the spectacular broomstick. Harry could feel the freezing air against his face, numbing his cheeks and making them rosy. He flew around three times before dropping back down and handing it to Draco so he could try.

"This is bloody fantast-eeek!" Draco cried as he went soaring, his blond hair being swept back.

As he watched his friend grip the broom to fly faster, someone coughed behind him. The Hit Wizard he had seen trying to stop Black was standing behind him, wand in hand. "You shouldn't be outside alone with Black on the loose," he said, his eyes moving to Harry's scar.

"My friend and I were just trying out my new broom," Harry replied. "Once he comes down, we'll leave."

"Make sure you do," the man said, shivering from the cold. "It's not safe out here."

The Hit Wizard left as Draco came down, panting slightly. "Who was that?"

"Hit Wizard. Says we have to leave," said Harry.

"Who cares what he says. He's gone now."

"We might as well go in though. It's freezing out here and I'm hungry."

The two of them departed, going first to the Dungeons to stow away Harry's new broom and then going up for something to eat. As they went up, knowing that there would be no one around since the entire school had left for the holidays, Harry and Draco debated where the broom had come from.

"I've no idea who it's from. Could be from anyone, really," Harry voiced.

"Well, it's got to be from someone you know. Who else would spend so much on you?"

"You're asking me? It doesn't seem likely that it's anyone I know. The only possible answer would be your father."

Draco shook his head. "No, if it were him, he would've added a note with his name. He would want you to know that it was him."

Harry considered Dumbledore, but knew it couldn't be since he couldn't spend that much money on a student. He thought of Lupin, and apparently so had Draco because his friend said, "What about Lupin? He seems to like you."

"Well, considering the man has no new robes, I don't think he has enough money to buy me a broom."

"Didn't think about that," Draco replied as they got to the empty Great Hall.

No one had mentioned it, but Harry knew that nearly everyone had left because Black was on the loose and obviously hanging around Hogwarts to get at him. No one had to say it because he knew. They should just blame him for what's going on. Honestly, he was surprised no one had already.

--

As Harry and Draco entered the Great Hall, they saw the twelve immense trees covered with gold, silver, and red ornaments with glowing stars atop. Floating white candles were lit above their heads and snow that melted before touching them descended gently from the ceiling. A small crowd of people were sitting at a single table in the center of the room.

Dumbledore, who was wearing a red party hat, waved for them to come over and sit. As Harry sat next to Draco, he noticed that the only students present were Weasley and Granger, who were very intent on ignoring him, a small first year Ravenclaw girl with pigtails, a burly sixth year Hufflepuff boy, and a giggling fourth year Hufflepuff girl with strawberry blonde hair and purple glasses.

Harry had the unfortunate circumstance of sitting beside Snape, who moved his elbow away so it wouldn't touch him. Further down the long table were McGonagall, whose pulled back bun sported a string of twinkling lights; Sprout, who was wearing a green party hat; Flitwick, who was humming tunes merrily to himself; Filch, who was petting Mrs. Norris in his lap as he picked at his food; and Trelawney, whose shawls were red and green for the occasion.

"Dig in," Dumbledore told them as they got comfortable.

Harry poured himself a large glass of pumpkin juice before putting warm, delicious food on his plate. As he bit into warm bread, he realized that Lupin was missing from the table. "Where's Professor Lupin?"

"He's fallen ill," Dumbledore responded, taking from a platter in front of him. "Unfortunate that it had to happen on Christmas."

"Mmm! Harry, try one of these!" Draco said, handing him a small, breaded food from a tray.

After the main course, scrumptious desserts of chocolate and vanilla filled the trays in front of them. The pumpkin juice disappeared to be replaced with a bubbly mint drink that made Harry feel lighter than air.

Not soon after, the young first year girl left the room after yawning too many times, saying she was tired. The people that remained drank energetically, hiccupping from the bubbles. At the end of the table was a small, old fashioned radio, which Dumbledore tapped twice with his wand and it began to emit holiday-inspired songs.

It seems that Trelawney was drinking something other than the minty drink because her hiccups didn't stop and she seemed to be swaying slightly in her seat. As the celebration was drawing to a close, she decided to leave a bit early and stood up. She then gasped, putting a hand to her mouth.

"What is it, Sybill?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"Thirteen," she mumbled.

"Pardon?"

"There are thirteen at this table and I am the one who stood up," Trelawney gasped. "Something horrible is going to happen!"

"Oh, calm yourself," McGonagall insisted. "Nothing's going to happen."

Trelawney gave her a dark look before giving a goodbye nod to Dumbledore and the rest of the table. She then stalked away, swaying slightly as she went.

Harry watched her leave as the fringe of the shawls flew gently behind her. Perhaps she was right though. Maybe something horrible was going to happen to her. She had been right so far about Finnigan's mother, even on the count of Weasley having to scream on Halloween night, and Harry had seen a giant, black dog numerous times already. Maybe Trelawney should be worried.

--

"Where're you going?" Draco asked, the next afternoon, from one of the couches in the common room. His legs were hanging over the side, his head was resting on a fluffy pillow as he lied back, reading a book.

"I'll be right back. Just going to ask someone something," he responded before leaving the room.

Harry should have done this a month ago when it was fresh in his mind, but the matter was still of importance, even if he hadn't been affected since the Quidditch match. So he made his way toward Lupin's office, hoping that he was there because he knew he was ill yesterday. He knocked on the door twice and at first there was no response, but then he heard a quiet reply.

When Harry entered, he first noticed how pale his professor was and how even more tattered his robes were. Lupin smiled as he walked in. "Harry, it's nice to see you."

"How're you feeling?" Harry queried as he took a seat.

"I'm doing well," Lupin responded. "It's unfortunate I couldn't attend the magnificent Christmas dinner. The desserts were probably delicious."

"The desserts were fantastic. So was that bubbly mint drink. I've never had that before."

"It's a special drink that Madam Rosmerta makes for Professor Dumbledore for the holiday." Lupin turned to look at him and asked earnestly, "So, how are you doing? With Black and other matters?"

"I'm fine, I guess," Harry stated. "Haven't heard a word about Black in a while, but I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing. The only other problem I have is the Dementors. I don't like being near them, so I've tried my best to be as far from them as possible, but somehow that's not how things end up. And I was hoping you could help me with that."

"I presume you mean the spell I used on the train. Well, it's a very complicated spell, but I don't know…"

"I'm willing to try it," Harry said eagerly.

"That's not what I mean. There's no doubt in my mind that you're keen to practice, but…I have to be honest with you, Harry, I'm disappointed with you. Have been since before Halloween, I just haven't had a chance to talk with you. I'm upset with how you treated Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid."

Harry turned away from Lupin's disillusioned eyes. He didn't want to talk about this, not after having accepted the loss of his friendships, and not with Lupin, whom he considered to be almost a friend. "I'll leave then."

"No. I _will_ help you. You know I will. But I wanted to speak with you first. I wanted to tell you that I was disappointed and that what you did and said showed that you're prone to influence," Lupin expressed. "I'm not preaching here, Harry. No one is perfect. I myself am a great example of that, but I want to help someone who truly wants and needs it. Someone who won't forget who his true friends are. Someone who won't forgot who truly cares about him."

"I do need your help and I haven't forgotten who cares about me," said Harry. "It's just that sometimes it's the people who I think know me the best who are the ones that forget who I am."

Lupin looked at him with sincerity, nodding with understanding as if those he knew forgot who he was at times. And maybe they did. At times even Harry forgot that he was talking to a man that was more than his professor, he was his father's old friend, he was a werewolf, and he was a man that lost more in one day than most people lose in a lifetime.

"At times, we all need guidance, Harry, so I'll help you."

**A/N:** Sorry if I scared you with Trelawney's little prediction. Just so you know, you need not worry about her this year or the next, but she may come across some trouble in Harry's fifth year. That's all I'll say for now. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! And it's sad that we haven't seen much of Ron or Hermione in a while, isn't it? Well, they will be making an appearance soon!

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**Preview of** **Chapter 30—The Silver Protector:**

Harry produces a corporeal Patronus, Blaise gets an unwanted letter, and Harry goes on an excursion with Draco and Blaise that doesn't end well, at least not for him…


	30. The Silver Protector

"The road of life twists and turns and no two directions are ever the same. Yet our lessons come from the journey, not the destination."

-Don Williams, Jr.

**30**

**The Silver Protector**

The days grew slightly longer and the temperatures grew faintly warmer each day as the month turned into March. Harry was doing reasonably well with schoolwork and in classes; he was getting the best grades, completing all assignments, mastering new spells only after a few tries, and mixing potions which he knew to be correct, even if he didn't get the highest grade because Snape was the teacher.

Quidditch practice had started up again not soon after the break, and when Harry had shown up with his new broom, even Flint had gasped in awe. The entire team asked him to try it out, and Flint became more arrogant, saying that there were no way the other teams could beat them now.

The only odd circumstance was that there had been no mention of Black in the newspapers for over two months. There hadn't been a single reference or remark of him and Harry was worried that he could be anywhere, even near Hogwarts, and he would have no idea.

He and Draco were also continuing the Animagus process. They were so close. Both of them knew it, they could almost feel it. Harry was sure that they could start the transformations soon, possibly next month. He could barely wait any longer.

Draco was also receiving fewer letters from his father. The gradual change had started before Halloween, but it had taken a while to become apparent. Draco only got a letter from Mr. Malfoy about once or twice a month now.

Harry was even doing well in his lessons with Lupin. The first one had taken place a few weeks ago, using a real Dementor, and although he hadn't made a Patronus, a white, unshapely mist had emerged from his wand. Lupin had seemed quite surprised and had congratulated him, but Harry wanted more, he wanted a full Patronus.

Three lessons later and Lupin was sure that Harry was close to creating a corporeal Patronus.

As Harry sat down on the hard earth, with a piece of chocolate in his hand after another failed attempt, he asked Lupin, "When will we know that I've produced a real Patronus? What does it look like?"

Lupin sat beside him, also taking a bit of some chocolate. "The Patronus takes the shape of an animal, but it's different for everyone. The form it takes for you will be different from the form it takes for me. No Patronus is the same. Trust me, you'll know when you've formed one."

"I want another go. I want to try again," Harry stated, getting to his feet. He took his wand from his pocket and looked at the cloaked figure further down the Hogwarts grounds.

"Hold on," Lupin advised, as he stood. "I think you're not producing a Patronus because the memory you chose isn't strong enough. I want you to search your thoughts and your emotions and find the memory that makes you the happiest."

Harry closed his eyes and searched his deepest and most secretive thoughts to find a memory he had nearly forgotten. He opened his eyes and muttered, "Got it." He walked toward the Dementor, his wand tightly in his hand, and with every step he could feel the cold overtaking him. He stopped walking, though the he and the Dementor were getting closer, and realized that the black-cloaked creatures was drawing nearer to him.

For a single second, he closed his eyes to see a clear picture of his parents in his mind's eye. When he opened them, the Dementor was uncomfortably close and he could feel his mind swaying into unconsciousness, but with all his strength he pointed his wand and yelled, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

A silvery, semi-transparent creature with antlers and four legs shot out of his wand, charging at the Dementor, who glided away toward the castle. Harry's light-headedness faded, and after a few moments so did his Patronus, but he was overjoyed. He had finally created a full-fledged Patronus and it had taken the shape of a stag.

"Now _that_ was a corporeal Patronus, and a fine one indeed," his professor encouraged, as he laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. He smiled broadly as he handed him a large piece of chocolate. "You're probably the first thirteen-year-old to form a Patronus at Hogwarts. I'm amazed you managed it so quickly, only in four lessons. You did great."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied with a smile.

-----

Harry thought that perhaps he would have another lesson with Lupin next Thursday, but he found that his professor was ill once again. Snape was taking over their Double Dark Arts class, even though the Slytherins had had Double Potions that morning.

"Snape again?" Draco asked as they sat down. "Lupin is always sick."

"Seems so."

The class watched quietly as Snape drew the curtains and extinguished a few candles. The room became almost cave-like with its dim, gray appearance and colder temperature. Granger, who was on the other side of the room, inquired, "Where's Professor Lupin?"

"He is ill at the moment, so I have taken over his classes," was all Snape said. He then told them to open their books and read. The chapter assigned was a creature they weren't supposed to learn about until next month, but no one in the class dared disrupt Snape as he wrote at the desk.

"That greasy git," Draco drawled as he flipped another page without glancing at it.

"Tell me about it," Harry replied, looking at Snape for a moment.

"After class, do you wanna go to the Room of Buried Secrets? I'm close to finishing a book that has a lot of very good information. I'll share when I finish."

Harry nodded and was just about to comment that he was almost done with a book as well, but Snape blurted, "Potter, be quiet."

As they were leaving the room, Harry tripped over an iron cauldron that lay on the floor. The two books he was holding dropped to the floor heavily as he fell forward, landing roughly on his palms. A few students walked past him, not caring, and he heard Weasley snicker at him as he strode by with Longbottom and Granger. He stood up slowly, wiping the dirt off of his palms.

"You okay?" Blaise asked. Draco handed Harry his books.

"Fine," Harry sputtered. They followed the group of classmates toward the stairs. He noticed, as he cleaned off the front of his robes, that Granger was not among the group of students they were following to the stairs. Weasley and Longbottom were glancing around the area as they continued their conversation. Granger seemed to have left. But it was impossible because there were no classrooms in that hallway, except for Lupin's, and the toilets were a few corridors over. Of course, she could just be at the front of the group or have run to the Library. Harry supposed that was what happened.

-----

"Finished!" Draco exclaimed, three hours later, as he slammed the book on the purple cushion beside him. He extended his arms above his head as he stretched, his face taking on a contorted expression as he grunted lazily. He then picked up a piece of parchment with untidy scribble on it. "This book had a lot of valuable information."

"Do tell."

"Well, for one, it said that the Ministry tells the Animagus participants that two weeks before transforming they should get in the mindset of being an animal," explained Draco, "Meaning that we must understand that when we're in animal form we won't be able to communicate with others since they'll be either human or a different animal. We also have to be aware that animals have instincts that we don't have, and even though we aren't actually the animal, changing will cause us to take on a few of the animal's characteristics. It also states that after we discover what animal are, we should get to know more about the animal we can become."

"Interesting. We'll have to do that soon."

"How soon d'you think?"

"I'd say we could start next month."

"Really, that soon?" Draco asked excitedly.

"We know nearly everything about the process. We've read over a dozen books combined. I think so."

Draco grinned widely, as Harry smiled and closed the book in his hands, and said, "Can't wait."

-----

Harry knew that Blaise was one of his best mates, second only to Draco. The only problem was he hardly knew anything about him. He was funny, enjoyed Quidditch, and was a bit of a tattle-tale, but was otherwise a great friend. He also knew that Blaise lived with his mother, who had been married numerous times, but beyond that, he knew nothing. But as the post flew in on Friday morning, Harry got an unexpected shove into familiarity.

As he took a bite of a buttered bagel, Harry glanced to his right to see Blaise with a sour, troubled look on his face. He was holding a long letter in one hand and was holding his forehead in the other.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

Blaise sighed before answering, "My mum's getting married again. I think it's the seventh time; I stopped counting years ago. She falls in love, gets married, and then something always goes wrong. A few of them died mysteriously. Anyway, the wedding is planned for the middle of August, so I have to go. I wasn't present at the last one since it took place while we were in our first year, but this one I, unfortunately, have to attend."

"Sorry, Blaise. I had no idea," Harry muttered uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. "Err…have you met the bloke yet?"

Blaise shook his head. "I barely knew the last one. I'm hardly going to know this one, and I won't care about the next one."

"The next one?"

"Believe me, it'll happen. Something will go wrong, they'll get divorced or he'll die if he's old, and my mum'll move onto the next stupid sod," explained Blaise. He turned to look at Harry with dismay in his eyes. "I don't know how enjoyable it'll be, but do you wanna come to the wedding?"

"Sure, I'll come. You could probably use a friend there."

"Do you think Malfoy'd want to come too?"

"Where do you think I'd want to go?" Draco asked as he sat to Harry's left, scooping food onto his plate.

"Blaise wants to know if you want to go to his mother's wedding in August," Harry replied.

"Sure, why not? Never been to one before. Maybe I can take a Firewhiskey when no one's looking," Draco said, smirking.

Just the idea of his two friends attending his mother's wedding seemed to cheer Blaise up because, as he folded the letter, Harry noticed that his face seemed less melancholy and his eyes less weary.

Then something occurred to Harry – they hadn't taken any late-night excursions in months. The last occurrence had been the Halloween Night Raid, and Blaise looked like he could use some fun to cheer him up.

Evidently, Harry knew that he should stay in the common room. Black had gotten in the castle numerous times already, and he could very well get inside once again, despite the Dementors and Hit Wizards. But he just didn't want to think about it. Besides, if Black were in the castle he wouldn't be able to see him under the Invisibility Cloak.

"Blaise, Draco, I think we should take a much-needed wandering around the corridors tonight," Harry voiced quietly. "We don't need to do anything crazy, but we could use a break from sitting in the common room and doing homework, if you know what I mean."

"I don't know what you would call 'crazy,' but I have an extra firework from Halloween that needs to be fired off," commented Blaise.

"Shall we leave, let's say, eleven o'clock?" Draco asked. The two other nodded as they all got up from their seats to get to class. The blond-haired boy whispered to Harry, "Don't forget the Marauder's Map. We might need it."

"I wouldn't dare forget it."

----

The trunk snaps clicked open as Harry lifted the lid to take out his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map. With an eye on the door, he stuffed the items in his robe pockets, then closed his trunk and left the room.

The three boys waited two hours for the common room to clear out, for the younger students to follow or to leave the common room as well. At one point, Blaise went back down to retrieve the firework, and after the room emptied just after eleven pm, Harry, Draco, and Blaise departed.

While under the Cloak, they trod slowly toward the Entrance Hall, their feet lightly tapping the marble beneath them as they held their lit wands firmly in their hands. They went back and forth for a few minutes as they decided where to set off the firework.

"It's _your_ firework, where d'you wanna set it off?" Draco whispered to Blaise.

"Hmm…how about on the seventh floor," Blaise replied with a smile. "Right in front of a portrait of a fat lady." Harry chuckled quietly as Draco smirked.

Halfway up the stairs to the first floor, Draco nudged Harry in the arm and whispered that he should check the map. He took out the piece of sacred parchment, and uttered with his still-lit wand, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._"

"What do you see?" Draco drawled out of the corner of his mouth.

A dot marked _Remus Lupin_ was on the fifth floor, _Severus Snape_ was on the second floor, but on the other side of the castle, and a man named _Benjamin Cole,_ probably a Hit Wizard, was between the sixth and seventh floors, going down. "We're clear, at least for now."

"What'd you say?" Blaise asked, turning to look at him.

"I said the coast is clear," Harry answered, surprised that the lie came so easily. He could just tell Blaise that he had the map, but he wasn't sure what his friend would do if he found out. He didn't want Blaise to tell the other students like he had done on other occasions.

After nearly running into the Hit Wizard on the fourth floor, the three boys finally got to the seventh. Harry glanced at the map one last time to see that Lupin was now on the sixth floor, but once they set off the firework, they would soon be on their way, so he put the map securely in his pocket.

"I can't remember which corridor it is," Blaise admitted.

"I know which one," Harry replied, leading them down a dark hallway. They turned once more until they reached the portrait of an overweight lady slumbering in a pink dress.

"Can we take this thing off now?" Draco asked, indicating the Invisibility Cloak.

"We'll have to if we wanna light the firework," muttered Blaise, taking a bright red firework from his large pocket.

Harry pulled off the Cloak, holding the airy fabric in his arms. He ran a hand through his hair and Draco did the same. "Ah, much better," the blond boy said, forgetting to whisper.

"_Shut up_," Blaise sputtered, "Do you want to get us caught? The Fat Lady might wake up."

"_Don't tell me what to do_," Draco whispered noisily with narrowed eyes.

"_Will you both shut the hell up?_" Harry insisted, incredulous that they could be so daft. He handed Draco the Cloak and then followed Blaise a few feet down the corridor, away from the portrait. Draco, his back leaning against the wall, watched from afar.

"This looks as good a spot as any, I suppose," Blaise said, motioning to Harry. "I want to light it, so just hold it so it's facing the end of the corridor." He pointed his wand at the long wick, but after a few moments, he still hadn't done anything. "Err…"

"Incendio."

"Oh, right." Blaise pointed his wand and spoke the spell as Harry let go of the firework. It lingered above the ground, spinning quickly where he had held it as it let out a long, high-pitched screech. If there was a professor or Hit Wizard nearby, they knew a student was out after curfew now. It didn't help that the firework made a loud popping noise and shot off down the corridor in a fire-like storm of red and orange light.

Harry wasn't able to hear, as his face became illuminated by the bright glow, that someone was running towards them. Suddenly, a man came from around the corner near the lit firework, which was whizzing toward him. Harry could clearly see by the lumination that it was Professor Lupin.

"Harry, let's go!" Blaise yelled above the noise. He started running toward Draco. Harry dashed hastily toward his friends, who he saw disappear beneath the Invisibility Cloak. He heard the firework's clamor dissipate as it turned the corner into the next hall.

"Harry!" Professor Lupin yelled, his feet stomping against the marble to catch up to him. "Stop!"

It was too late to run or hide. His professor had already seen him, so he halted where he was and mouthed the word, "Go" toward the area where he was certain his friends were. Harry turned to face Lupin and could just make out the scurrying of Draco and Blaise's feet.

Lupin drew closer, panting slightly and shaking his head at Harry, who noticed that his professor's face was pale and that he had bags under his eyes. He then remembered that just yesterday the man had been "ill."

"You're out after curfew, despite that Dumbledore gave you strict instructions to remain safe. He might not have told you not to go out past curfew in his letter, but that doesn't mean you can disregard it so loosely, Harry," Lupin instructed, exasperation in his tone. "You're gambling your parents' sacrifice by going out at night at such a dangerous time."

"I haven't done anything like this in months," Harry muttered.

Lupin raised a hand to silence him. "I'm not worrying about how much time has passed since your last outing; I just thought you knew better than to go out again after what happened on Halloween." He paused, looking Harry in the eye. "Go back to your common room."

With a small nod, Harry turned on his heel and headed away from Lupin. He should be content; he got off with no points deduced from Slytherin House and with no detention, but Harry wasn't pleased. If it had been Snape to tell him he was gambling his parents' sacrifice then he could have handled it, but to hear it from Lupin, who was like a friend, made Harry realize that, in a way, he was letting Lupin down.

"I don't want to do this, Harry, but if I hear you've gone out past curfew again, I'll start patrolling near the Slytherin common room," Lupin added, his voice trailing from further down the corridor. "And there are ways to detect a person hiding under an Invisibility Cloak."

**A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!**

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Preview of Chapter **31—Animalistic Transformations:**

Harry sees a name on the Marauder's Map that shouldn't be there; he and Draco try their first Animagus transformations, and an incident occurs in Hogsmeade between the Slytherins and Gryffindors…


	31. Animalistic Transformations

"The awareness of the ambiguity of one's highest achievements (as well as one's deepest failures) is a definite symptom of maturity."

-Paul Tillich

**31**

**Animalistic Transformations**

Not wanting to get in trouble for a second time in one night, Harry took out the Marauder's Map to see where Snape and the Hit Wizard were, and, fortunately, they were nowhere near him. The way to the Dungeons was clear.

For no particular reason, except curiosity, he glanced at the names still in the nearby Gryffindor common room. There were only a handful of people present: Lee Jordan, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and…

Harry saw a name that shouldn't be there, a name that _couldn't_ be there. The person was right alongside Weasley and Granger near the fire. The three of them seemed to be together, like they were talking or having some sort of discussion, except for the anomalous fact that this person didn't exist anymore. Peter Pettigrew was dead to the world.

Harry shut his eyes, unsure if what he was seeing was real, but when he opened them he found the name was still present. Maybe there was something wrong with the map. Or perhaps Pettigrew _was_ there – he knew there were ghosts at Hogwarts. However, he somehow didn't think that either of those conclusions were true.

He supposed talking to Weasley or Granger was out of the question. Perhaps talking to Lupin would suffice instead.

-----

The next evening, Harry went to Lupin's office to explain what had happened yesterday, to ask about what he had seen on the map, but, most importantly, to show that he wasn't risking his parents' sacrifice. If he weren't going to prove it with words, then he would attempt to do so with the emotions that showed on his face.

He knocked lightly but his professor heard and told him to enter. Standing to the right of his desk, looking into a glass tank with murky water was Lupin, who turned to glance at him. He said casually, "Good evening, Harry."

"Good evening, Professor. Um…I wanted to explain about yesterday."

"There's no need to, Harry. You and some friends were simply having fun; I understand that. I'm sorry I spoke so harshly to you, but I wanted you to be aware that exposing yourself in the dead of night with Black on the loose is unwise."

"Believe me, Professor, I understand," Harry stressed.

"I'm glad you do," the man stated, sitting down at his desk. "Sorry, Harry, but I have work to do, is there something else you want to talk about?"

"I just need to know…this may sound odd, but…Peter Pettigrew is dead, is he not?"

"Yes, of course he is. I mean, considering there was no body, it's a bit harder to prove, but yes he is. What's this about?"

"I saw his name on a special object that I have, and there's no way he could have been on it unless he was alive or a ghost or something."

"I'm not sure what it means, Harry, but I will certainly keep it in mind."

Harry nodded and then turned to leave.

-----

With rain pouring down upon the Hogwarts grounds nearly everyday, it was easy to see that it was early April. The Black Lake seemed to be on the verge of overflowing, the ground became disgustingly soggy as the rain seeped into the soil, turning the dirt to mud, and though the temperatures rose and the snow melted, the sky was always a dull, melancholy gray.

Harry and Draco had been following the books instructions for a week now by getting into the mindset of being an animal. They weren't exactly sure what that meant or what they were supposed to do, but they had tried. And now that they were entering the Room of Buried Secrets, they were experiencing a mixture of unease and excitement, knowing that they would be attempting the Animagus spell for the first time.

As Harry pulled out his wand, his heart began to pound in his chest. It had finally dawned on him that this was the moment when would be able to test their knowledge of the Animagus process. It would determine whether books and willpower could surpass going to the Ministry for help.

"Ready?" Draco asked, no hint of unease in his voice, though Harry could see that he was unusually paler.

" 'Suppose so." Harry took a quick intake of breath and then exhaled slowly, preparing himself.

"On the count of three. One…two…_three!_"

Harry turned his wand upon himself, pointing it at his chest, and exclaimed in unison with Draco, "_Animagus!_"

He tightly closed his eyes, but when he opened them, he found that he was still human. Nothing had happened and he hadn't changed. He saw that Draco was the same as well.

"What happened?" Draco asked.

"Maybe we should've practiced the spell?"

"Seems kind of difficult to practice it, don't you think? Who would let us willingly try it on them?"

"I didn't mean like that. I just meant to practice in general…never mind."

"I think we should try again."

"One of the books said that we can't use the spell too often because we need to let our mind and body rest. We need to get use to the transformations."

"See, I would agree if something happened, but nothing did, so I'm trying again."

"Fine. I'll try again, too."

"_One…two…three!_"

Harry pointed his wand at his chest once again and yelled, "_Animagus!_" As he heard his wand drop to the floor softly, the ground seemed to get closer and he could hear a faint growl as he breathed. He looked at his hands, which had turned to paws; his skin was now covered in short, smooth black hair. He had changed into a wolf.

After a few seconds, they started to change back, and Harry had just enough time to glance at Draco to see that he was a white-haired fox with a soft, bushy tail. Harry and Draco grew in size, the fur lessened, turning back into skin, their muzzles turned back into noses, their paws became hands, and they could talk once more.

Harry picked up his wand from the floor, so thrilled they had completed their first transformation without any complications. He couldn't stop smiling and saw that Draco was grinning as well. The two boys started laughing from the excitement and adrenaline. Harry and Draco had done it – they were Animagi.

-----

Since one of the books said that Animagus participants need a day or two to adjust to the changes before they can perform the spell on themselves again, Harry and Draco went back to the Room of Buried Secrets only two or three times a week to practice. They wanted to do this right, and so far they felt they were on the right track.

Ever time they changed, the transformations lasted longer, going from mere seconds to only a few minutes to nearly twenty minutes. The two boys couldn't get over the fact that they were changing into animals, even if they couldn't do it on their own yet. Immediately after the first transformation, they had talked, animatedly, for five minutes straight about the animal they were.

"Bloody hell! I can barely comprehend that I can change into a fox!" Draco had exclaimed. "It suits me, I think."

"A wolf," Harry had said, a trace of a smile on his face. "That's a good animal and it's very fitting – strong, resilient, determined. Seems like a perfect match."

Just as Harry had finished, he saw a spark out of the corner of his eye and looked up as Draco did the same. Suddenly, a white candle took the small glimmer's place. Their first Animagus transformations had been recorded as a secret.

Draco had then asked, "Why are there black candles?"

Feeling bad that he had looked at the secrets without Draco or without telling him, Harry lied, "Those have always been there."

"They have?"

"Yeah," Harry had muttered, glancing at the floor.

Since they had been practicing for nearly two weeks, the two Slytherin third years were excited to hear that there would be a trip to Hogsmeade that upcoming weekend. So as the school bustled out of the front doors and proceeded toward the small village, Harry told Draco that he would meet him at the Three Broomsticks in twenty minutes.

He fetched his Invisibility Cloak from his dormitory, and decided to bring his Conglomerate Stone so he wouldn't have to walk back later that afternoon. Without the Marauder's Map it was much more challenging to get to the hump-backed witch, but he made it and continued toward Hogsmeade.

When Harry got to the back room of Honeydukes, he placed his Invisibility Cloak over himself, making his way into the store. There were so many people crowded into the small area, grabbing at colorful sweets that he had to be wary of bumping into someone. But he managed to get out of the store without shocking too many people and got to the overly crowded Three Broomsticks to find Draco waiting near the counter, watching Madam Rosmerta out of the corner of his eyes.

"She's pretty, eh?" Harry teased, muttering it from behind him.

Draco involuntarily jumped, turning toward him. "Don't do that." Harry chuckled softly as his friend added, "Slip me a few sickles, I'll get you a Butterbeer."

Harry waited by the vacant end of the counter as Draco asked Madam Rosmerta for two drinks, to which she gave him a funny look, seeing as he was alone, but she gave him two full mugs nonetheless. When they saw Blaise sitting by himself at a table in the corner of the room, they sat down with him.

"Hey, Draco. Where's—oh, right, Harry's stuck in the castle," he commented.

"Nope, he's here," Draco replied, putting the two mugs down. "He's to your left. Harry's under the Invisibility Cloak."

Harry grabbed one of the mugs and dragged it toward him as Blaise with slight awe as the mug seemingly moved itself. He then pulled it under to drink it. "You know," Blaise added, "that never stops being creepy, Harry."

"Hello, Blaise," Harry said between sips.

After finishing their drinks, they decided to visit Zonko's and ran into Pucey, Higgs, and Bletchley, who told them that Honeydukes was giving out samples of a new fizzing chocolate. Draco bought a few items and then they decided to go to Honeydukes, where a young woman wearing a lime green apron was holding a silver tray. The three boys each grabbed a few pieces of chocolate. Harry put one in his mouth and the two other pieces in his robe pocket. The milky chocolate immediately began to fizzle pleasantly in his mouth as they continued down the narrow road. Harry glimpsed Weasley and Granger up ahead before they disappeared among the crowd.

"You wanna see the Shrieking Shack?" Draco asked, smirking.

"Yeah, sure," Blaise replied. "You know, I heard it was haunted. Violent ghosts live in there. That's why it's all boarded up and out of bounds. It's been quiet for over ten years, but I heard some of the Hogsmeade villagers say that recently they've been hearing things in there."

"That's interesting, but I don't think its' haunted," Harry answered. "Why would ghosts suddenly come back after so long?"

"Who cares," interrupted Draco. "There's something much more interesting down there." He pointed down the sloping hill to where Weasley and Granger were looking over an old fence at the Shrieking Shack. "Let's have some fun, shall we?"

Harry and Blaise followed Draco as he drew closer to the two Gryffindors. When they were only ten feet away, they stopped, Harry and Blaise hiding behind one large tree while Draco hid behind another. With a smirk on his pale face, he reached down to pick up a large glob of mud, then peeked around the tree and threw it straight at Weasley. The mud flew in the air, bits of it falling to the soggy earth, and landed on the back of the redhead's coat.

"Hey!" Weasley yelled heatedly, his ears red as he looked around the empty area. He glanced at his jacket, looking irritating, and said, "Ugh."

Draco was holding his unsoiled hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh too loudly. Blaise was chuckling inaudibly beside the invisible Harry, who wasn't laughing at all.

Blaise bent down to grab some mud, leaned around the tree, and threw the muck ball. It hit Granger's left shoulder and splattered into her curly hair. She let out a small shriek and tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe it off.

"Who's there? Who's throwing mud?" Ron yelled.

Draco glanced at Harry and mouthed the words, "Come on!" He then bent down once again to retrieve more muck. Harry wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to seem like a fool in front of Draco and Blaise by not throwing the mud as well, but he didn't want to lunge it at Weasley and Granger, even if they weren't his friends anymore.

After Draco hurled another glob of slime at Weasley, he motioned for Harry to go over to his tree. He tried not to slip on the mud as he made his way over. "What?" Harry asked.

"Why aren't you throwing anything? I thought you would be the first person with mud in your hand," said Draco. "They're the ones that don't want to be I_your_/I friend." Harry knew he was right, but to throw mud at them for it wasn't correct either. "You know I can't see your face. So is that a yes? You'll throw mud? Because if it is, then I want to get under the Cloak to get a better angle."

Blaise must have thrown more mud because he heard Ron shout again at no one in particular. Harry said to Draco, "Yeah, I'll throw some mud."

"That's what I want to hear." Draco got under the Cloak and the two of them stepped between the two trees in clear view of Granger and Weasley, whose eyes were darting around as they tried to wipe off the mud. Granger was now holding her wand in her hand, obviously not wanting to get dirtier. So Harry and Draco took globs of mud from the ground, stuck their hands out from under the Cloak, and launched it at the two Gryffindors.

Granger managed to prevent one mud ball from hitting her with a simple spell, but the other hit Weasley in the head, covering his bright hair with sludge. He groaned in anger, wiping it off of his face. "Come on, where are you?" he screamed. "Show yourself!"

Draco was sniggering next to him and Blaise was laughing nearby. Harry had to admit – it felt good to throw something at Weasley and Granger. It relieved some anger that he had been repressing for a while about their broken friendships. And the worries and rage aimed at Black lifted, welcomingly, off of his shoulders as he threw another smudge ball.

As Draco bent to retrieve yet another handful, he slipped on the mud, knocking into Harry, who tripped and fell backwards. His feet caught the hem of the Invisibility Cloak, which was unintentionally yanked down to reveal both of their faces to Weasley and Granger.

"Potter!" yelled Weasley, exasperated, his face red.

"I can't believe you!" shouted Granger. She pulled at Weasley's sleeve and they ran off.

Blaise ran out from behind the tree, trying to stifle his laughter. Harry and Draco got up, their backs and legs covered in mud. "Harry, you're not supposed to be here," Blaise advised. "If they tell a professor, you're gonna be in deep…mud."

"You're right. I gotta go," Harry stressed. "You two should try cleaning yourselves up, too. I'll meet you in the common room later."

With a muddy hand, he reached into his robe pocket and took out his Conglomerate Stone, pressing the green stone. He hastily rushed out of the common room, passing a few first years, and went into his dormitory. Since he knew he wouldn't have time to clean his robe or the Invisibility Cloak, Harry took them off and thrust them under his bed. He then rushed to the loo, turned on the tap, and rubbed his arms and hands with a bar of soap.

Given that he was in a hurry since he wasn't sure when a professor would come to interrogate him, the soap slipped out of his hands and landed on the floor. As he bent to pick it up, he noticed that his trainers were coated in muck.

After Harry had gotten all the mud off of his arms and hands, he went back into the dormitory to change his shoes. He slipped the dirty ones under his bed with the other soiled clothing. To give the appearance of having been inside all afternoon, he grabbed a book and proceeded upstairs, sitting in an armchair by the fireplace.

Not two minutes later, the common room wall slid away and Harry looked up to see his interrogator…

**A/N: **Hey guys!! I'm sure all of you (or hopefully some of you) were paying attention to the election earlier this week (I'm proud to say that I voted and watch CNN intently for hours!). I'm just so excited that Barack Obama has been elected the 44th president of the United States!!! America, and the world, needs someone with a fresh perspective on things, someone who can relate to other countries besides the U.S., someone who can do what's right for his people, whether they're at home or stationed abroad, and I know that Obama is the right man for the job. Good luck, President-elect Barack Obama, you have a difficult time ahead of you!

And, readers, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'm sorry to say that I've been neglecting the series a bit and have been putting off writing it since I've been writing both my own original works and writing for my Fiction class. So soon I'll go back to writing _A Different Road_ because I'm starting to lag behind; I haven't started the fourth year yet, unfortunately. Anyway, have a fantastic week!

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Preview of Chapter

**32—Cold as Ice, Vile as Mud:**

McGonagall and Snape talk to Harry about the occurrence in Hogsmeade and Harry gets slapped in the face…


	32. Cold as Ice, Vile as Mud

"He who slings mud generally loses ground."

-Aldai E. Stevenson

**32**

**Cold as Ice, Vile as Mud**

The fireplace was comforting to sit beside, considering he had been throwing cold, soggy mud, and had fallen into it. He could feel the warmth emanating from the fire as he looked down at the book in his hands, pretending to scan the pages. First and second years spoke and laughed noisily, their high-pitched voices bouncing off the walls to make them seem even louder.

Though it had only seemed like a few seconds, Harry was sure that the wall had in reality slid away five minutes later to reveal the greasy Professor Snape with a large smirk. "Come with me, Potter."

Harry set the book aside and stood up to follow his professor out of the room. They walked in silence toward the Entrance Hall, where they met Professor McGonagall. Behind her were the mud-covered Weasley and Granger.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall stated, irritation clear in her voice, "I've just been told a most unusual story by Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger." Harry said nothing as she continued, "They say that they were near the Shrieking Shack, apparently by themselves, when large globs of mud were thrown at them…several times in fact by seemingly no one at all. Then suddenly, they happened to see an anomalous vision of yours and Mr. Malfoy's head hovering in midair.

"We both know that you are not allowed to be anywhere near Hogsmeade, so to hear that your head was near the Shrieking Shack, gives me the feeling that your body was as well. Am I wrong to assume, Mr. Potter?"

"You're not wrong to assume, Professor, but I wasn't in Hogsmeade. I was down in the Dungeons, have been all afternoon," Harry said, trying his best not to smile.

"So if I ask Mr. Malfoy where you were, he would give me the same answer you are giving me right now?" she asked.

"Yes." Harry sincerely hoped Draco would.

"Mr. Malfoy, would you please come here?" McGonagall called to the stairs.

Draco stood up and walked over. Evidently, he hadn't been able to get rid of all the mud before McGonagall found him because it was still in his hair, on his robes, and on his hands.

McGonagall inquired, "Would you be so kind as to tell me what happened this afternoon?"

"Well, um, I was walking when I saw Weasley and Granger near the Shrieking Shack and I saw a large area of mud on top of a hill, so I hid behind a large tree and…threw mud at them."

"By yourself?"

"Yes, by myself. The last time I saw Harry was this morning."

"How can you account for the fact that Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger didn't just see your head?"

Draco glanced at Harry before answering. "I slipped in the mud; it went flying everywhere. And besides, they were down the hill, which could explain why they thought they saw Harry's head too. It was just viewpoint that caused it."

Professor McGonagall glanced at the two Gryffindors behind her and then turned back. "Very well. It seems I can't account for how Mr. Potter was there, if he was at all. There's no mud on his robes, shoes, or hands, so I can't give him detention—"

"But we saw him. We saw Potter as clear as day!" Weasley exclaimed.

"Mr. Weasley, if you can explain how Mr. Potter got there and back within mere minutes, then please do tell," McGonagall said.

"He's got a Conglomerate Stone," Weasley muttered. "He probably used it to get back so fast."

"Do you have a Conglomerate Stone, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes."

"Do you have the Slytherin common room assigned to a stone?" McGonagall asked. Weasley smirked, thinking Harry was now caught.

However, Weasley's smile faded as Harry said, "Yes…but I don't have one assigned to Hogsmeade. How could I if I've never been there?"

McGonagall nodded slowly. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, I insist you go back to your common room and get on some clean clothes—"

"But, Professor—!"

"Mr. Malfoy, you come with me, so we can decide when you'll be having your detentions."

"Deten_tions?_" Draco asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Yes. With a stunt like that, did you expect anything less?" McGonagall stated. "Mr. Potter, I'll let Professor Snape decide if anything should be done about you."

As Draco followed McGonagall up the stairs, Harry followed Snape down to the Dungeons. They didn't say anything for a long time. The only sound was of their feet hitting the stone floor. Regrettably, Snape then muttered, "Professor McGonagall may simply find it odd that Weasley and Granger saw you in Hogsmeade, but I know better, Potter."

"I was in my dormitory and the common room, Professor."

"Can anyone prove that?" Snape said, turning to glance at him.

Harry opened his mouth, but immediately closed it. There was no one who could confirm it.

The thin lines of Snape's mouth turned into a smirk. "The Minister of Magic, the headmaster, and even I have been trying to keep famous Harry Potter safe from the prisoner Sirius Black. But Harry Potter is a law unto himself. Let the ordinary people worry about his safety! The Boy Who Lived goes where he wants to, with no thought for the consequences."*

Harry still said nothing as he walked down the Dungeon steps. If Snape was trying to provoke him, then he would just have to try harder. He wasn't going to say a word.

But Snape didn't attempt to aggravate him further, he said nothing, only a hint of a smirk remained on his face until they reached the wall that led to the Slytherin common room. "You had better be careful, Potter, for if I choose to revoke your Conglomerate Stone, you'll have no way to get back to your dormitory for a quick alibi when you get in trouble."

Snape walked briskly toward his office. Over his shoulder he added, "Oh, and by the way, Potter, next time you throw mud at your peers, be sure to check your hair for evidence. Your detention is at five tomorrow, my office."

As Harry watched his professor walk away, he reached up to touch the back of his head and found that it was caked with dried mud. Snape must have noticed it during the conversation because his Head of House had been standing behind him. He had been so meticulous, making sure no mud could be found on him, and yet he had overlooked his hair. For someone so smart, he was such an idiot.

-----

Nearly twenty minutes later, Draco came into the room as Harry sat by the fire. He had used a cleaning spell to get rid of the mud, but he didn't think he had gotten all of it out, so he was running his fingers through his unruly hair, trying to get the remnants away.

"Did you get detention?" Draco immediately asked, sitting in an armchair across from his best mate. He ran a hand through his filthy blond hair to get it out of his face.

"I thought I wasn't going to, but Snape saw the mud in my hair. It's tomorrow at five in his office. He's definitely going to make me write lines. I hate lines," Harry explained. "What about you?"

"I have three detentions. _Three!_ Can you believe it? Just for throwing some mud around," Draco stated, skeptical. "By the way, one of mine's tomorrow, but the others are next week, so you'll have to practice transforming alone."

Harry nodded. "If we go to Hogsmeade, whether it's with the school or by ourselves, we have to be careful. Much more careful than we were today. All right?"

"Yeah, all right."

"Oh, and thanks for not ratting me out."

"It's nothing. Besides, if I had said you were there, I probably would've gotten in even more trouble. Not to mention that you would've also."

"Snape would've given me detention every night for the rest of the year."

"You should be careful about Snape. He'll undoubtedly be keeping a close eye on you now."

-----

Just when Harry thought the Hogsmeade ordeal with Weasley and Granger was going to blow over and all would be forgotten, he met them in the corridor on the way to Potions class on Thursday morning. The two of them were talking quite persistently, so Harry made to go past them since the classroom was in the next corridor, but Weasley stopped him by saying, "_Potter_."

Harry turned to look at them, knowing that he should probably just go to class, but he didn't.

"I can _not_ believe you would throw mud at us!" Granger muttered exasperatedly, her cheeks slightly flushed as she came toward him. "We did absolutely nothing to you. Our friendship ended because of what you did, not us!"

"You're a filthy git, Potter!" Weasley exclaimed.

"It wasn't me, it was Draco! I only threw mud at the very end!"

"You can't blame what you did on other people, and you can't deny it either. We saw you!" Granger took a step forward.

"Well, McGonagall didn't know what to believe and even though Snape has it in for me, he only gave me one detention," Harry told them. "You should just leave it alone."

"I can't believe it's just so easy for you to put things in the back of your mind, Potter! You can't just pretend things didn't happen!" Granger exclaimed.

"I don't pretend! I just don't care!" Harry voiced loudly. "Can't you tell? I don't care about either of you or about—!"

The next thing Harry knew Granger was standing directly in front of him and her right hand was hitting him sharply across the face. He stumbled back as he brought his hands to his sore, stinging cheek. It felt hot under his palms, as if Granger had branded him with iron instead of slapping him.

Weasley, with wide eyes, looked stunned at was she had done, even if it was to Harry. Granger said, "Come on, Ron."

Harry waited for them to turn the corner and then he blurted, "_Ow._" He dropped his bag to the ground so as to rub his cheek better. It stung tremendously and he was sure that he could still feel exactly where each of Granger's fingers had been on his face.

He dragged his bag closer to the classroom, from which he could hear murmurs emanating, but then turned around and headed in the opposite direction. He didn't care, he wasn't attending class today.

* Quote taken and paraphrased from the American version of _Prisoner of Azkaban_, page 284.

**A/N:** I know that Ron or Hermione should have said something to McGonagall about Harry having an Invisibility Cloak, but they were angry and let's just say that they momentarily forgot about it, even though its very unlike Hermione to forget something like that.

To the Anonymous submitter, whoever you are: I'm not sorry that my political opinions are different than yours, but that is no reason to insult me or to impose your own opinions on me. I've never done that to anyone and I never plan to, and I find it insulting that you would do it to me or anyone else. Your opinions are your own for your reasons and mine are my own for my own reasons. Even if you think my opinions are wrong that doesn't mean you have to insult me so. If you don't plan to read my story anymore then that's completely fine by me.

Sorry about that, and sorry about updating late! I've been extremely busy this week, what with registering for classes for next semester, reading three books for school, and writing stories for my Fiction class (Whew!). Anyway, I hope you all have a pleasant week!!

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**Preview of Chapter 33—The A****chievement of Men:**

The Animagus transformations become complete as Harry and Draco learn to change on their own, but when they go outside to practice, they encounter a large, black dog whilst in their animal forms…


	33. The Achievement of Men

"The virtue of achievement is victory over oneself. Those who know this can never know defeat."

-Anonymous

**33**

**The Achievement of Men**

The days grew considerably longer, the grass had lessened in its sogginess and brightened greatly in color, the sun shone more often, and students went outside a lot more as the month turned into May. In the last Quidditch match, between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, Flint's team had won by a staggering two hundred points, much to Flint's comfort and the Ravenclaws dismay. With the Firebolt, though flying came so naturally to Harry, soaring through the air had been so easy, like the broom was a part of him and not a perfect piece of wood. They were sure to get the Quidditch Cup this year.

Now that Harry and Draco had been training to become Animagi for over a month as they gradually practiced more frequently, they felt it was time they tried it on their own, no wands involved.

After eating a hearty dinner and taking a few profiteroles with them, the two boys left Blaise to finish his food with Crabbe and Goyle, and ran toward the Room of Buried Secrets. As Harry bowed to the statue and entered the room, it occurred to him that he was attempting to do something only adult witches and wizards could. Though he had transformed numerous times already into a wolf, the idea of changing without his wand was awe-inspiring, alluring, and somewhat scary.

"Are you ready?" Draco asked, after closing the door.

"What exactly are we supposed to do?" Harry inquired.

"It sounds ridiculous, but we have to imagine ourselves as the animal in every way – body and mind. I guess just picture yourself as a wolf and I'll picture myself as a fox. You know, the tail, the snout, the fur, the way you would stand as the animal, how you would communicate, and how you would think."

"It's so much easier with the spell."

"Tell me about it."

"Well, I guess we should try it," Harry remarked, rolling up his sleeves. The occasion seemed to call for it. "It'll probably be easier if we close our eyes."

Draco nodded and then the two boys closed their eyes.

Harry imagined all that his best friend had told him to. He imagined himself on all fours with paws, with his unruly hair as short fur all over his body, with a tail that wagged, and with rough breathing like a growl. Gradually, his breathing became more ragged and he tried to gasp, but what came out was a soft growl instead. He opened his eyes to see that he was looking at the floor, which were only inches from his muzzle.

With his green wolf eyes, he glanced up at Draco, who was still in human form, his eyes tightly shut. Harry barked at him and Draco opened his eyes. "Oh sod! I can't do it, Harry."

Harry moved toward his best mate and barked again.

"You know I can't understand you, right?" Draco asked. To which, Harry growled softly at him. The blond boy added, "All right, all right, I'll try again."

Draco closed his eyes and his chest puffed out slightly as he inhaled. After a minute, Harry watched, amazed, as his friend gradually changed into a white fox. He shrank in size as the hair atop his hair seemed to retreat while the rest of his body seemed to sprout it. Out of his head two triangular ears developed and out of the top of his lower back grew a long, fluffy tail.

Harry was sure that if Draco had lips, he would be using them to smile, but since he didn't he let out a gentle bark. "Wow-wow-wow," the white fox voiced as the black wolf howled, "Wooo!"

After a few minutes of "talking" to each other without understanding what the other was saying and of moving and running around, Harry decided he should get back into human form. He closed his eyes and imagined himself as he was for the last thirteen years – standing upright on two legs with pale skin and no tail. And in no time, he was back to his normal appearance and soon accompanied by Draco.

"That was bloody amazing!" Draco exclaimed.

"That was more than amazing," Harry shouted in glee, "it was fantastic, it was incredible, it was mind-boggling!"

"We have to transform as much as possible!"

"Of course we have to. We still have to practice."

"Well, I just can't believe we did it on our own," Draco stated. "After two years of reading and studying those books, we _finally did it_."

Harry smiled at his best mate's words. "We accomplished what the Ministry thinks only adult wizards and witches can."

------

Harry awoken late Monday morning since no one had bothered to wake him and because he and Draco had practiced transforming last night in the Room of Buried Secrets. He dressed quickly, tossed his books into his messenger bag, and threw the strap into his shoulder. His stomach was rumbling and his throat was dry, and he couldn't wait to have some warm food./

As he jogged up the steps toward the Entrance Hall, Harry saw someone standing in a corner, her back facing him. He stepped forward slowly and asked, "Are you okay?"

The girl turned toward him and he saw that it was Granger. Harry hadn't recognized her because her frizzy hair was pulled back in a bun. He saw that she was fumbling with a golden hourglass-shaped object, trying to hide it by putting it down the front of her robes.

But Harry saw it and said, "You've got one of those things? They make someone travel back in time."

"It's called a Time-Turner, Potter. But no one's supposed to know I have it, only Dumbledore, McGonagall, and me. So, if you have any good left in you you'll stay quiet," Hermione said callously. "Now leave me alone." She walked off, heading up the stairs.

Harry entered the Great Hall and sat beside Draco, who muttered, "I see you're finally up."

"No thanks to you. You didn't wake me." Draco just shrugged as he ate his breakfast. Harry poured pumpkin juice into his glass and spooned some scrambled eggs onto his plate.

As Draco and Harry made plans for another Animagus practice the next evening, a hundreds of light- and dark-feathered owls arrived carrying the post. Two unfamiliar, small owls with creamy white envelopes tied to their legs dropped down in front the two boys. Harry untied his and opened it to see that it was an invitation to Mrs. Zabini's wedding. In dark purple words, it said that the ceremony and celebration would take place on the 17th of August at five o'clock pm.

"Did you get an invitation, too?" Draco asked, glancing over at Harry, who nodded. "The ceremony will probably be a bit dull, but I'm looking forward to the celebration."

"Could you take me to the wedding? Otherwise, I'll have no way of getting there."

"Sure. You're staying at the manor this summer, aren't you?"

"Yeah, of course," Harry said "The quicker I go to your place, the less time I have to stay with the Dursley's."

------

"It's a lot easier to transform, now that we've been getting used to it," Draco stated, two weeks later on a Saturday afternoon as he slumped on a green cushion in the Room of Buried Secrets. His left eye was closed as he made a circular motion with his wand at one of the candles above.

Harry watched his friend, lazily, from another couch. "Yeah, it is."

"You know, I reckon we should start transforming outside," considered Draco, putting his wand down and looking at Harry. "We could go under your Invisibility Cloak as we are and then once we get outside the castle, we could transform and go wherever we please! And even if a professor sees us, they won't know that its _us_. It's brilliant!"

"I think that's a great idea!" Harry thought. "Why don't we try it tonight? I still have to finish Snape's essay, but I think I can manage."

Only a few hours later, the two boys were sitting in the common room after dinner, waiting, not only for some more people to clear out, but to digest further. Neither Harry nor Draco wanted to be running outside on a full stomach. Sitting near the small-lit fire, Harry had his wand and the Marauder's Map in his right robe pocket and the Invisibility Cloak in his left. Draco was tapping his foot incessantly, obviously impatient to leave. But both of them wanted to make sure that the room was nearly cleared out before departing.

When it was close to nine, they decided to leave, making sure that Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle didn't see them set out. Once outside the common room, Harry covered himself and Draco with the Cloak and they made their way toward the main doors.

"Almost free," Harry muttered excitedly.

They snuck past the Dementors guarding the front doors, feeling their bones chill deep inside, and ran down the steps, trying not to trip in their haste. Harry and Draco went around the castle until they couldn't be seen by the black-cloaked creatures. Harry grabbed the Cloak and pulled it off of them, before stuffing it inside his left robe pocket once again.

The breeze they encountered seemed chilly and warm at the same time. Harry felt like he hadn't been outside in a long time because his skin hadn't felt wind for so long, but in reality he had gone out not weeks before. He looked up at the glowing, nearly full moon that was illuminating the nearby clouds as well as the ground he was standing on.

With a whisper, Harry was brought out of his daze by Draco, who said, "Ready?" Harry nodded.

Not having to close their eyes any longer, Harry and Draco transformed into a wolf and a fox in mere seconds. The two boys in animal form ran around and rolled around in the grass, feeling it against the paws and fur. It was such a different, though pleasant, experience having the small blades of grass against Harry's long fur rather than against his skin. After running around the castle, trying to chase each other, they headed to the Black Lake. Draco immersed a white paw into the water and immediately recoiled. Harry dipped a paw in as well and could feel the iciness of the water against his fur and hidden skin.

The black wolf drew back his paw and stared at the glistening reflection of the moon. Then the reflection was broken and he looked up just in time to see Draco trying to splash him with water. Harry leaped away from the cold droplets toward the Forbidden Forest.

As Draco chased him a few feet into the woods, Harry saw two, large eyes amongst the dark trees. Harry stopped and barked gently at Draco, who stopped behind him. The fox warned him, with a throaty bark, to go no further.

Harry noticed that the eyes were getting gradually larger and when he finally realized that the animal was coming at him, it was too late. A large, black dog leapt at the wolf, which managed to throw the dog off of him. The dog was growling at them as it bared it teeth. It turned toward Draco and jumped at him. The white fox made a loud yelping noise and tried to scamper away, but the dog was too quick. Draco was pinned to the ground and tried to push the large animal off.

The wolf growled at the dog, but when it didn't turn away from Draco, he jumped at it. Harry pushed the dog off of the fox, but then he and the dog began to fight. While growling and barking, they jumped at each other, with Draco yelping behind them. Then, with one quick swipe, the dog's paw hit Harry's muzzle, its nails creating two deeps lashes. Harry whined in pain for a moment and then leapt at the dog once more.

Harry had forgotten that Draco was behind the dog because when he pushed the large, black animal it pushed into Draco, who was unintentionally pushed backwards, bumping his head hard on the large tree behind him.

Harry growled menacingly at the dog, but stopped when he heard footsteps crunching on branches nearby. A loud voice called, "Who's there?" He could tell it was Hagrid.

The dog growled at him more quietly, but then ran off onto the Hogwarts grounds. Harry wanted to follow, but he couldn't leave Draco behind. As he watched the animal leave, he saw a room on the second floor light up. Turning back to Draco, he saw that his friend was slowly changing back into human form, his body now laying on the roots and branches.

Harry changed as well and saw that there was some blood on the bark where Draco had hit his head. Though it seemed he wasn't bleeding heavily, he didn't want Draco to go without first being healed. Harry extracted his wand from his pocket, pointing it at the back of his friend's head.

"_Episkey!_"

Not sure it had completely worked, he ripped the bottom of his robe and tied it tightly around Draco's head like a tourniquet. He then put his arms under Draco's armpits and dragged him out of the Forbidden Forest until they were at a lone tree near the Black Lake. Harry took out the Marauder's Map, wanting to make sure that when he brought Draco to the Hospital Wing, they wouldn't run into a professor, but what Harry saw instead was the name _Sirius Black_ near the Womping Willow.

Not wanting to leave his best mate alone and accessible to danger in the darkening night, Harry took out his Invisibility Cloak out and placed it over Draco so he wouldn't be seen by anyone, professor or otherwise. He sincerely hoped his friend remained safe as he folded the Marauder's Map and ran toward the Womping Willow…

**A/N:** Hey guys!! I hope you're all enjoying the chapters that have been coming up lately! The next ones will also be really good (at least in my opinion), so I really hope they'll keep you entertained! Tell me if anything bugged you about the chapter or what you really liked! To the other Americans, hope you all have a fantastic Thanksgiving this upcoming Thursday!!

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Preview of Chapter 34—Truth or Lies:

Harry meets Black in the Womping Willow and wants to kill him for what he did, but when Lupin arrives, the truth comes out, and though Harry isn't sure he believes it, he says he'll do a task for Black…


	34. Truth or Lies

**A/N:** I know that some of you don't like the change in narration, but I thought a change for a few paragraphs wouldn't be too bad. In the beginning, its still third person limited like always, only the character we're following is different. And I'm really sorry I didn't update last Friday. It was Thanksgiving in the U.S. (for those outside it), and I just really needed a break from everything. My semester is ending in two weeks, so I'll be able to give more time to writing this series! I hope you find the chapter entertaining!

"It's not a matter of what is true that counts but a matter of what is perceived to be true."

-Henry Kissinger

**34**

**Truth or Lies**

After rubbing his weary eyes yet again, the man glanced at the pile of students' essays on his desk with fatigue. His overly distressed robes clung loosely to his body and his shoes felt too tight. He stared into the low-lit fire of the torch that hung over his desk.

In the stillness of his office, Lupin heard a subtle growling coming from outside that flittered in through his open window. The sound of animals, which sounded much like livid dogs, grew distinctly louder. With a flick of his wand, the torch's light intensified. He then stood from his seat and looked out of the window to see a very familiar large, black dog running across the grassy expanse of Hogwarts' grounds.

A gasp escaped him without his even realizing as he watched the animal set off toward the Womping Willow. Just as he turned away from the window, deciding to go after his old friend, another figure coming from the woods caught his eye.

Lupin stared, horrified and bewildered, when he saw that Harry was dragging Draco Malfoy's body toward a tree near the Black Lake. He watched James' son cover the other boy with his Invisibility Cloak, before he ran off to follow Black.

Hastily, Lupin extinguished the torch with his wand and was soon out the door...

------

With his heart beating rapidly in his chest, Harry darted toward the Womping Willow as he watched the trees' branches pounce, hazardously, through the air. Black must have already gone through here. He stopped, his chest heaving, and looked around for the long branch.

Once he had found it, he dodged a swaying branch and prodded the knot. "_Lumos!_" Harry said as he strode quickly through the earthy tunnel toward the old, ransacked structure he now knew was the Shrieking Shack. As he picked up the pace, he realized that his left cheek stung. He touched his skin to find that there were two deep incisions present. The blood hadn't yet dried completely, but at least it was starting to thicken as his skin prepared to heal.

Harry couldn't think of anything but the man that he hoped was ahead. This was his chance. Harry would finally get his revenge on Black for betraying his parents. The only thing he wanted to do at the moment was get his hands around Black's neck. If he got the chance, he would kill the man.

There was no light coming from under the door of the room in which Harry had seen back in August. But he was sure the prisoner was there. He had to be. Without further ado, he pushed open the door to find just a dim-lighted room. As he took a few steps forward, shining the wand's light around the area, he saw nothing but the broken bed, but as he brought the light closer to the door, he saw two large, green eyes.

With no time to gasp or think of a spell, Harry was pounced on by the dog, which pinned him to the dusty floor. He accidentally let go of his wand and it rolled only a foot from his hand, and yet it was too far. Before he knew it, the animal was changing into a black-haired man, whose knees were resting uncomfortably on his chest, taking all the air out of Harry's lungs.

Sirius Black's deep, dark eyes stared into Harry's bright green ones for a moment until Harry let out a grunt as he pushed the man, forcefully, off of him. Black hit the ground with a thud, but immediately stood. Harry scampered toward his wand, but wasn't quick enough. Just as he was about to reach it, Black blurted, "_Leave it_."

Harry glanced up to see the man pointing his wand at him. Slowly and hesitantly, he stood up.

"I wasn't expecting to meet you tonight, Harry, but I suppose the sooner, the better," Black spoke with a raspy voice, as if he hadn't used it in a while.

"The sooner you kill me, the better, is that it?" Harry asked, angrily. "You got rid of Pettigrew pretty quickly, didn't you? Only it didn't work out as you planned 'cause you ended up in prison."

"I told you before, I didn't kill Petti—"

"And my parents? You obviously wanted them gone in a hurry!"

"No, I—"

"YOU KILLED MY PARENTS!"

In one swift movement, Harry bent down and grabbed his wand as Black blurted, "_Incarcerous!_" He just barely dodged the thick rope flying at him and turned to look at Black, who was flicking his wand at him again and who yelled, "_Petrificus To—!_"

With only a few feet between them, Harry, anger and adrenaline coursing through his veins, lunged at Black, who was pushed against the wall so quickly that he stopped mid-word. From the force, his elbow hit the peeling boards behind him, releasing the wand from his hand.

Harry pointed his wand at Black's cold heart with one hand while the other was pressed firmly against his upper chest, keeping Black fixed to the wall.

Instead of pushing Harry off, Black started laughing. It was a harsh, manic snicker that made the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand. The thought that the man could laugh so cruelly in his face stunned him.

"Are you going to kill me, Harry?" Black taunted. "My heart is there. All you need is one spell."

"I don't need magic to kill you, Black." Harry moved his left hand toward the man's throat, as if to show him he would do it.

"You couldn't kill me," Black spat. "You couldn't kill with magic or your own hands."

Harry said nothing. What was he doing? He couldn't doubt himself now. Black was right in front of him. He was at Harry's will. It was he who had I_his_/I wand at the man's heart and _his_ hand at the man's throat, not the other way around. He could do this. He could kill him. But why wasn't he?

Black saw his hesitation and started laughing once again. "COME ON, HARRY, I'M RIGHT HERE!"

Harry pressed his wand further into Black's chest, but then there was a sudden blast of light from the doorway. His wand was wrenched from his tight grip, landing in Professor Lupin's outstretched hand.

"Move aside, Harry," he said.

Harry slowly relinquished his hold on Black's throat, before stepping away. He watched as Lupin pointed his own wand at Black.

"Remus, it's nice of you to join us," Black proclaimed, his back still against the wall. He was rubbing his neck where Harry's fingers had been. "Just happened to be in town?"

"I'm a professor here, Black."

"Ah, I see."

"I need to know. Are you here for _him?_" Lupin asked, nodding his head in the direction of the castle, instead at Harry, who stared, utterly bewildered. Lupin seemed to be indicating someone other than himself.

"You know?" Black asked, taking a step forward, his eyes narrowed.

"Not completely. I don't know all the details. I want to make sure."

"But how did you figure it out?"

"The map."

"You have it?"

Lupin shook his head and turned to glance at Harry, who had no idea as to who or what they were talking about. "His name appeared on it. But I wasn't certain—"

"_It never lies._"

"I know," muttered Lupin. "Then, he's alive. But he hasn't shown himself. There hasn't been a word of him." He turned away as his eyes widened. "That means…it was he, not you…but then that would've meant that…_you switched?_"

Black didn't say anything, only nodded. His face seemed brighter and at the tips of his mouth was the faintness of a smile.

As Lupin lowered his wand, as he embraced Black, Harry began to feel sick. The man he had trusted as a friend had betrayed him. He took several steps back, not knowing what else to do. "I trusted you! I thought you were my friend!" Harry yelled, his hands shaking. "If you wanted me dead, you should have done it earlier! At least then I never would have known of your betrayal!"

"Harry, I don't want you dead," Lupin said, turning to face him. "Just listen to me."

"I could have told the school! I could have told _everyone_, but I didn't!" Harry shouted. "I kept your secret."

"What are you—?"

"You're a werewolf!"

"How long have you known?" Lupin inquired.

"Since Snape brought in the Wolfsbane Potion," Harry stated, eyes darting back and forth between the two men. "You made the mistake of telling me that sugar made it useless. I looked it up in the library."

"You're very clever, Harry. But you'll be making an incredibly unwise decision if you don't listen to what I have to say, to what Sirius has to say."

"I already made the unwise decision of being your friend. You've been helping Black into the castle, haven't you? Snape's been saying so all along."

"Snape?" Black asked. "He's—?"

"—a professor here," Lupin spoke without turning. "And I haven't been helping him into the castle."

"Then how did you know he was here? That I was here?" Harry asked.

"I saw Sirius in Animagus form from my window and then I saw you running after, so I followed you," Lupin admitted.

"Enough of this, Remus," Black interrupted. "Get on with it. Tell him."

"Here." Lupin handed back Harry's wand. "Now just listen to me, Harry. Remember when you told me you saw Pettigrew's name on the map?"

"Yeah—wait, I never said it was a map," Harry muttered, eyeing Lupin curiously.

"I knew what you were talking about though. There was nothing else that would allow you to see his name. You see, I was one of the creators of the map, along with your father, Sirius, and Pettigrew."

"I know. You're the Marauders."

Lupin seemed to know what Harry was going to ask because he added, "You're father was Prongs because during our years at Hogwarts, they went through the Animagus process, and his form was a stag." Harry nodded, pleasantly surprised that his father was an Animagus and understanding why his Patronus was the antlered animal.

Black cleared his throat from behind Lupin. He was leaning casually against the wall, but he looked somewhat tense.

Lupin continued, "You said you saw Pettigrew's name on the map, and it kept bugging me that you had. I thought perhaps that the map was starting to malfunction after all those years. But you made me realize that Pettigrew isn't dead like everyone thinks.

"Harry, Pettigrew is very much alive and he's in Hogwarts at this very moment. In fact, he's been at Hogwarts all year, maybe even since you arrived in your first year."

"What are you talking about? If he really isn't dead then how could he be at Hogwarts all this time and no one noticed?" Harry asked.

"Pettigrew is an Animagus also," Lupin muttered. "He's a rat."

"So you're saying he's been hiding for years as a rat…at Hogwarts?" Harry asked with raised eyes, highly skeptical.

"He's a young boy's pet," Black blurted.

Harry opened his mouth to speak his incredulousness, but Lupin said, "Ron Weasley's pet. The rat he's had for years is Peter."

"How did he know? How could he tell it was Pettigrew? There are millions of rats! And all those years he's been imprisoned in Azkaban!"

"That's a good question," Lupin answered, glancing at Black. "How did you know?"

"I got a newspaper from Fudge while he was inspecting Azkaban," Black explained, taking a small folded piece of newspaper from his pocket. "On the front page was a picture of the Weasley's and on the boy's shoulder was his rat. I've seen Peter transform so many times, how could I not recognize him? But I knew it was him when I noticed that he was missing a finger."

"Of course!" Lupin exclaimed. "His finger. It was the only thing they found at the scene after it was blown up."

"His doing, by the way," Black added, "Faked his own death by cutting it off just before blowing the street apart."

"You see, he faked his own death!" Harry said loudly, stepping toward Black. "People don't just do that for no apparent reason! He knew you were going after him! He knew you were going to kill him like you killed my mum and dad!"

The man yelled, "Of course I was going to kill him! It was he, Harry, he that killed your parents, not me! I was going after him because of what he did!"

"Pettigrew didn't do anything! It was you! You were their Secret Keeper! You betrayed them! _You _killed them!"

Lupin put a hand on Harry's shoulder to prevent him from going any closer to Black or possibly to prevent him from doing something stupid. "Harry, that's what we all thought, but we were wrong. Sirius wasn't the one who betrayed your parents, it was Peter. The scene on the street was caused because Sirius had tracked Peter down. It was Peter who had given your parents to Voldemort."

"No—!"

"Harry, Pettigrew and I switched the role of Secret Keeper at the last moment," Black interrupted. "I was sure Voldemort would overlook Pettigrew as the Secret Keeper, so I persuaded your parents to use him instead of me." He looked at Harry with his dark, sunken eyes. "Before I found out your parents were dead, I went to check on Pettigrew at his hiding place. It was immediately clear to me that no one was there, it was dark and there were no signs of resistance, so I knew something was very wrong. I departed for your parents' house and saw what had happened – the destruction from Voldemort, James and Lily's bodies…and I knew. I knew it had been Peter. That's when I confronted him, and when he faked his own death."

Black looked down at the floor for a moment and then met Harry's gaze again. "I haven't been trying to kill you, Harry, I would never harm you. The _Daily Prophet_ thinks I've been following you because you got rid of Voldemort, but I've been pursuing Pettigrew for his betrayal. I came here to kill _him_…not you."

Harry looked back and forth between Black and Lupin. Were they really telling the truth or were they both mad? Of course, all the facts made sense, but there was no proof. How could there be? The only people who could confirm it were dead.

"But how did you find me when I was with Snape? How did you know I was there?"

"I went to last place that I would want to go."

"What?! You can't be serious?" Lupin asked. "You broke into Snape's house?"

"I only did it to see if Harry was there, and I was right. But I thought he'd be sleeping. All I did was leave a note."

Lupin shook his head and muttered, "Unbelievable."

Black stared at Harry, who was still unsure as to whether he should trust him. It was true – all he had really done was leave a note, now that he thought back to that day. But after a year of watching his back and keep an eyes out nonstop, he was reluctant, and he had good right to be.

"I'm not saying I believe you…but if you got Scabbers, Ron's rat, then what would you do?" Harry asked.

"We'd use a spell that would allow him to show himself," Lupin muttered.

"That's why I wanted to meet with you, Harry," Black said. "I wanted to get you to see the truth and I wanted you to get Pettigrew for me…that's if you want to."

Harry glanced at Lupin, before looking back at Black. He was hesitant, but he wanted this to be over. "Fine, I'll get him."

"I'll prove to you that it was Pettigrew," assured Black. "Bring him here in a week's time. We'll meet at eight o'clock. All right?"

Harry nodded as Lupin asked his old friend, "Where've you been staying?"

"A cave near Hogsmeade. I've been feeding off rats and whatever else I could find," Black answered. "Got into the kitchen at the Hog's Head and the Three Broomsticks a few times."

"I'll leave a bag of food for you near the Womping Willow tomorrow," Lupin added as he put a hand on Black's shoulder. "You have no idea how pleased I am to know that you didn't have a hand in James and Lily's murder. I thought I had been betrayed by you as well."

"I'm just relieved that someone finally knows the truth," Black agreed, a smile crossing his thin face. He looked at Harry with seemingly brighter eyes. "I hope you'll see that what we've told you is the truth, and that I'm your friend."

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Preview of Chapter 35—Capturing a Murderer:

Harry learns more about Lupin's time at Hogwarts and enters the Gryffindor common room in hopes of capturing a murderer…


	35. Capturing a Murderer

"Remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time they seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall."

-Mahatma Gandhi

**35**

**Capturing a Murderer**

The tree where Harry had left Draco was silent, though he was sure he could hear a faint breathing in the near pitch-black darkness. He extended his right hand where he remembered his friend to be and grabbed the Invisibility Cloak, pulling it off to see that Draco was still unconscious.

"We've been gone for a long time," Harry said worried. "Do you think he's okay?"

Lupin bent down to inspect the blond boy. He took off the bandage and checked the back of his head. "I think he'll be just fine, but we have to take him to the Hospital Wing."

"_Mobilicorpus!_" He exclaimed softly, flourishing his wand. Draco's unconscious body was lifted a few inches from the ground, and they made their way toward the castle in the gloom.

Though they said nothing to each other, Harry had many questions running through his head. But he knew this wasn't the time to ask. He concentrated instead on getting Draco the mediacal attention he needed.

Past the cold-enhancing Dementors and the sleeping students and professors, they proceeded in the direction of the Hospital Wing. Once there, Harry knocked noisily on the closed doors. "Hello? Madam Pomfrey?"

He could hear feet shuffling on the other side and then the door was opened to a woman in her houserobe, clutching at the fabric near her chest. Her hair was in disarray and her eyes were weary. She opened the door and allowed them to enter, muttering under her breath about the late hour.

Draco was placed on a bed and Madam Pomfrey checked out his wound, before scurrying away. When she came back she slowly poured a thick, purple potion into his mouth, making sure that it went down without him choking. With her back facing Lupin and Harry, who were standing a few feet from the bed, she asked, "What happened to his head and why is he covered in twigs and dirt?"

"He hit his head on a tree," Harry disclosed quietly.

Madam Pomfrey glanced back at him quickly, and her eyes seemed to convey the question of _What were you doing outside so late at night?_ but Lupin added, "Don't worry, Madam Pomfrey, I have it covered."

A few minutes later, she told them that Draco would be all right, and that she had given him Essence of Murtlap, which will help him heal faster. Madam Pomfrey then handed Harry a tiny bottle and told him to dab on some of potion at night to heal the cuts on his face. Harry and Lupin thanked her, said they were sorry for waking her so late, and then they departed, making their way downstairs.

"Professor, are you sure about this?" Harry murmured, staring at the marble floor. "About Black, I mean? And Pettigrew as Scabbers?"

"Harry, I understand that the information was a lot to take in for one night, but I _know_ Sirius is telling the truth," Lupin emphasized. "And I also know that either way you won't believe me or him until you get Peter."

Lupin stopped on the stairs between the third and second floors and turned to look at Harry. "Tell Mr. Malfoy and your other friends that I gave you detention for being outside, which I should anyway but I won't, and that I felt being hit in the head was bad enough for him. With your Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map, go to Gryffindor common room, find and capture Peter. Keep him hidden in your room."

"How am I going to keep him in my dormitory? Won't he change into a man once he realizes why I caught him?"

"Come," Lupin stated, moving down the steps. "I'll give you a small cage."

Harry followed his professor into his dark office. Lupin flicked his wand at a torch, which faintly lit up the room. As he rummaged through some cages in the corner of the room, Harry uttered, "You said that my dad could turn into a stag."

"Yes," Lupin said, "that's why I was pleasantly surprised that your Patronus was one."

"So my father, Black, and Pettigrew are all Animagi," stated Harry.

Lupin brought over a small, metal cage, placing it at the corner of his desk. "They did it for me, they went through the whole, tedious process of reading books, gathering information, and practicing non-stop for me. You see, in our third year, they found out that I was a werewolf and they wanted to make my stay here at Hogwarts to be more, er, _comfortable_."

"They didn't know before that that you were a werewolf?"

"Of course not. I was determined that no one would find out. Werewolves have never been accepted in Wizarding society, so I thought I would never be able to attend Hogwarts. When I got the letter, I was ecstatic – actually, I would have to say that's an understatement – that Professor Dumbledore was allowing me to come. The Womping Willow and the Shrieking Shack are both there because of me. I needed somewhere to go when it was a full moon, some place that the other students wouldn't be able to get into easily. When the Hogsmeade villagers believed violent ghosts were inhabiting the Shrieking Shack, Dumbledore encouraged it. He couldn't let anyone find out that there was a werewolf student at Hogwarts.

"And I didn't want James, Sirius, and Peter, who were really my first and only friends, to find out either. I thought if they found out that they would hate me for what I was," continued Lupin, his eyes lowered. "So I told them that I had a sick grandmother that I had to visit every month, but evenutally they uncovered my secret, and they didn't hate me or cast me aside, like I had thought. In fact, they wanted to help, so they became Animagi."

There was a hint of a smile on Lupin's face. "They became full-fledged Animagi in our fifth year and the possibilities of what we could do or where we could go were endless. We went everywhere in the castle and on the grounds, and we took all that information and made the Marauder's Map with it."

"Wasn't it dangerous that they were traveling with a werewolf?" Harry asked, leaning against the side of the armchair in front of Lupin's desk, his curiosity blooming.

"It was indeed exceedingly dangerous," Lupin said, resting against the edge of his desk, "especially since the Wolfsbane Potion didn't exist then. Sirius, James, and Peter were in the company of a full werewolf every month, but we were niave and thought that nothing could hurt us. And believe me there were plenty of near-misses where I almost bit them or hurt them, but we just laughed it off later on."

"Does Dumbledore know that Black and Pettigrew are Animagi? That my father was?"

"No, I…I never told him," Lupin answered. "I know I will have to now when we explain how Peter has been hiding from us for nearly thirteen years. I felt like I was betraying his trust, in a way. He let me go to school here and yet I was running around with three unauthorized Animagi as a werewolf. Now he's given me a job, so I still don't want to tell him. I guess I'm just worried of what he'll think of me. I still haven't changed from the teenager I was."

"Professor Dumbledore shouldn't think badly of you. He'll understand why you didn't want to tell him," Harry supposed, trying to make Lupin feel better. "He always understands. If you tell him the truth, then he'll appreciate your honesty."

" 'Suppose so," Lupin muttered, before laughing genuinely. "I'm getting advice from a thirteen-year-old."

"I am not _just_ a thirteen-year-old," Harry joked.

"You're right," Lupin added, smiling. "You're my late friend's son."

A large grin spread across Harry's face.

"Well, it's getting late, Harry, so you should be on your way." Lupin handed him the cage. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Professor," Harry said, holding the cage and opening the office door.

Just as he was about to softly close the door, his professor called, "Wait!" Harry glanced back inside the room to find Lupin sitting behind his desk. "The Gryffindor password is Credo Amicitia*****. And you should put on your Invisibility Cloak to walk back. Professor Snape is on curfew duty tonight."

Harry nodded as a thank you.

-------

"How're you feeling?" Harry asked as Draco came over to his armchair.

"I'm perfectly fine. It was just a bump on the head," Draco answered, as if nothing had happened. He glanced around the room and then looked back at Harry. "Did we get in trouble? Did anyone find out?"

"Yeah, Lupin found us. He heard me trying to drag you up the stairs toward the Hospital Wing," Harry said, half-lying. "But he told me to tell you that you won't be getting detention for being outside after curfew, like I am, because he felt being in the Hospital Wing and being hit in the head was bad enough."

Draco sat down, slumping slightly in the chair. "Well…sucks for you."

"Thanks, Draco," Harry replied sarcastically. "Next time, I'll leave you outside."

"You better not!" Draco added, "Anyway, being outside as an Animagus was bloody fantastic! I don't care if we got caught, we have to do that again."

"But we have to be more careful. If we do get caught again, the punishment will be much more severe. I don't think you want to be suspended _again_."

"No, definitely not."

Harry told both Draco and Blaise, who came over a few minutes later, that he had detention that night at seven pm, so as the time rolled around, he went to his dormitory to to grab some necessary items.

As he unlocked his trunk and pulled open the lid, he realized that he was acutally going through with it. He was going to capture Scabbbers, formerly known as Peter Pettigrew. He was not completely sure he trusted Black, despite what Lupin had told him. And although it was true that the harmless dog he had seen a few times was Sirius Black, and that he could have killed him numerous times but hadn't, he was still unsure about the escaped man.

Harry pulled out his Invisibility Cloak, feeling the gentle fabric against his skin and placed it in his pocket, followed by his reliable Conglomerate Stone.

Walking up the stairs, past the flittering torches that created long, broken shadows on the steps, Harry realized that his palms were sweaty and his legs felt unsteady. There was a nervous, almost sick feeling in his stomach and his heart was beating rapidly in his chest.

However, as he advanced toward the Gryffindor Tower under the Cloak, pushing his physical sensations aside, he genuinely hoped Scabbers was in the Gryffindor common room and not scurrying around the castle, and that he also wasn't in Weasley's robe pocket. That most certainly would be a difficult feat having to take the little creaure from the Gryffindor's pocket. He realized he should have taken his Marauder's Map, but he was nearly at the seventh floor and didn't want to turn back.

Once in front of the bored-looking Fat Lady, who was resting her chin on her left hand, Harry took off the Cloak, keeping it in his hands just in case someone showed up. The Fat Lady looked up, her eyes narrowed in curiosity, as she asked, "Yes?"

"_Credo Amicitia_," Harry murmured, wondering if she was allowed to prohibit him from entering.

"Very well," she added. "Don't look at me if you're hexed at."

However, Harry wasn't planning on being seen, so he concealed himself with the Invisibility Cloak and pulled open the portait hole, beginning to feel uneasy. He could feel his face becoming flushed at the thought of him tripping over the hem of his Cloak amid so many Gryffindors.

The Gryffindors nearest to the portrait hole looked up, mystified that no one was there, but quickly turned away to continue their conversations, homework, or Chess games. The brightly lit room with burgandy couches, chairs, and wallpapered walls was crowded with laughing and conversing students in lion-emblazoned robes. Much unlike the Slytherin common room, this room was buzzing with cheerful noise and filled with vibrant, jovial students.

Harry inched further into the room, trying not to knock into anyone. He saw that over in the corner, a bunch of fourth and fifth years seemed to be having a Chess tourniment with some younger students cheering their favorites on. By the window, the Weasley twins were persuading a group of first year girls and boys to eat different colored candies, to which some of their faces broke out in boils while others got nosebleeds.

As he glanced around the room, he noticed that neither Weasley nor Granger were present. Were they in their dormitories? He saw that ahead of him was a stairwell, so he made his way over, nearly being walked into by Seamus Finnigan. Harry saw that it divided into two separate stairs, and seeing that a young girl was coming down the left one as she whistled, he walked up the steps to the right. Figuring it went by year, when he got to the third door, he opened it graudally to find that Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom were at the trunks in front of their beds, putting away books and inkbottles. Harry moved into the room to stand near one of the windows.

With an inquisitive glance at the door, Longbottom closed his trunk and sat atop it as Weasley dropped a large book into his trunk with a thud. "I didn't want to mention anything with Hermione around," Weasley muttered, his back still turned, "because she never believes anything I say, but when I was coming back from my detention with McGonagall—"

"Did she mention why she gave you the detention?" Longbottom interupted.

"Saw me falling asleep in class. Hermione probably would've woken me up, but she just…disappeared," Ron stated, turning to face Longbottom. "Anyway, I finished organizing a cabinet of records around nine, so that sod Filch let me leave, but just as I got to the first floor, I heard the front doors openings, so I stayed to see who it was. But I didn't see anyone, though I could've sworn I heard Potter's voice."

"Are you sure the doors didn't open because of the wind?" Longbottom inquired. "That also could've been the sound you heard."

"No, Neville, I'm sure it was Potter. He must've been under that Invisibility Cloak of his. Come on, you've gotta believe me."

"All right, I believe you, but what does it matter? It already happened, there's nothing you can do about it?"

Weasley scratched his head, slightly messing up his bright red hair. "I guess you're right, mate."

Hearing Weasley's little tale, Harry realized he would have to be extremely careful next time he and Draco went outside to transform. If Weasley heard his voice again, he might go to a professor, and if he goes to the right, or wrong, professor, they might inquire as to where he is and then see that he's not in the common room. It could lead to consequences he doesn't want to face.

Weasley, his ears a bit red, continued, "I just hate that he's running around this place like he owns it, going out after hours, even with Black in hiding. He's such a—"

The nearly closed door was forcibly pushed open by a bushy-haired girl, whose cheeks at the moment were flushed. Granger said loudly, "Ron, where did you put my robe?"

"What—what are you taking about?" he asked, bewildered. "Are you even allowed in here?"

"My robe! Yesterday, I was wearing a robe, like I do everyday, like everyone in this school does, but I took it off when we got to the common room and I remember you moving it. Where'd you put it?"

"Hermione, calm down," Longbottom spoke quietly.

"It's just a robe," Weasley added. "What's so special about a robe?"

"There's something very important in one of the pockets! I need to find it, and you, Ronald, are going to help me locate my robe!" Granger bellowed, reaching forward to grab the front of his robes in an attempt to drag him forward.

However, he managed to stop her by prying her hands off with quite some force, and, with hands raised, palms facing her to prevent her from coming any closer, said, "Hermione, we'll find your bloody robe. Just let me get Scabbers first." Harry turned quickly from the exasperated Granger to watch Weasley walk to his bed to pick up the nestled rat sitting at the end of his bed. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen the little creature positioned there. It would have saved him a lot of time, but now he would have to follow Weasley and the others, waiting until the right time.

Placing Scabbers in his robe pocket, Weasley muttered, "Now we can find your stupid robe." Granger turned on her heel and hurried out of the room, slowly followed by the chubby boy and the red-head, who added under his breath, "Why can't she find her robe on her own?"

As Harry left the room, trailing his former friends, he realized that if he had been sorted into Gryffindor House, this would be his dormitory. But instead, the place he called home was down in the dungeons.

The noise from the common room became more thunderous as he made his way down the stairs. Harry almost bumped into an older black girl, who he knew to be on the Quidditch team, and then nearly collided with a first year. Granger was sifting through a small group of people who were sitting at the couches near the fireplace, demanding them to stand for a moment and then asking if they had seen a robe anywhere, to which all of them shook their heads.

"Ron, see if you can find it by the tables over there," Granger called to Weasley, who was standing off to the side with Longbottom. "Neville, make him look for it."

Longbottom sighed heavily as he turned from glancing at Granger to Weasley. "Let's just search for her robe." Weasley nodded and they went toward an occupied table to rummage through the papers and people.

Harry glanced around the crowded room, thinking of a way to distract Weasley in order to get him to take Scabbers out of his pocket. However, the likelihood that he would take the rat out instead of just leave him there was slim to none.

Only one thing worked in his favor. As Harry was watching Fred and George Weasley examining the gullible first years, he saw what looked like a black robe sticking out from under one of the couches. He grabbed it when he felt no one was looking and placed it on an armrest, making sure it was in Weasley's sight.

And sure enough, only a minute later, the red-head exclaimed, "Aha!" He flaunted the robe like a prized possession, holding it up to show Longbottom.

"Go show her before she hexs someone, because with my luck, it'd probably be me," Longbottom articulated, his eyes following Granger's form on the other side of the room.

"Hold on, I want to put Scabbers down. If Hermione gets too excited that I found it, she might hug me," Weasley explained, slightly uneasy at the thought, "and I wouldn't want to squash him." He took the furry little creature from his pocket and placed him on a pillow of an unoccupied couch.

Harry watched the two boys make their way towards a distraught Granger, and a second later heard her shriek. But he was now observing the sleeping animal as he headed for it, and with one quick swipe, he grabbed Scabbers, took him under the Invisibility Cloak, and placed him in his left pocket.

Seeing as there was nothing else to do in Gryffindor common room, he decided it was time to leave. He strode warily to the portrait hole and then waited, thinking it would be best to wait for someone to open it first, seeing as he was invisible. But when he heard Weasley's shouts on the other end of the room ("Scabbers! He's gone!"), Harry chose to ignore his concealment and hurried out of Gryffindor tower, relieved he had managed to obtain Scabbers, and thankful he hadn't trip over his hem on the way out.

Now, Harry knew, came the tricky part.

***** Credo Amicitia in Latin means to trust or believe friendship.

**A/N:** With Harry being in the Slytherin common room all the time, it's hard to see what's going on with Ron and Hermione, so I hope you enjoyed this little peak into their side of the broken friendship. As you can see, Ron is a bit more aggressive and cynical than when he was friends with Harry. I tried to show that Ron and Hermione's friendship isn't what it had been before – that it's somewhat strained, though Neville helps when he can. Tell me if you got that, or if you didn't, please!/p

One more thing: I'm sorry, but I won't have time next week to update the story! It's a very busy week and I have a lot of studying to do, but the week after that I will update Wednesday the 24th or Christmas, instead of that Friday. I promise that the next chapter is well worth the wait!! Good luck to the students with finals!

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**Preview of Chapter 36—A Rat Exposed:**

Harry brings Scabbers to Black and Lupin to find that it was Peter Pettigrew all along, and hears more of Black's side of the story…


	36. A Rat Exposed

"Every murderer is somebody's old friend."

-Agatha Christie

**A/N:** Happy Holidays and enjoy!

**36**

**A Rat Exposed**

The small, tawny-gray animal stared back at him through the thin, metal bars of the cage, and Harry wondered whether it truly was Peter Pettigrew, wondered whether he knew the boy's intentions, and wondered what the man was thinking if it all was true; if everything Black said was true. One thought was probably how to get out, but Harry speculated if Pettigrew was thinking of ways to kill him.

After first capturing Scabbers, he hadn't believed Sirius Black's story. However, as the week dragged on, the idea slowly began to sink into his mind that Scabbers could be Peter Pettigrew, a murderer.

Though there was no one event that had actually turned the switch in his mind, throughout the week, Harry had come back from classes and meals to ensure that the rat was still imprisoned in the cage. Not that he was afraid Scabbers would find a way to escape, but it was as if Harry was waiting for the moment when the rat would show himself for what he really was.

Harry poked in some small morsels for the animal on late Saturday afternoon, as he sat on the floor by his bed, under which he kept Scabbers' cage during the day. Only three more hours and he will be under the Invisibility Cloak, carrying the metal cage, and bringing the rat to Black and Lupin to obtain the undeniable truth, what ever that may be.

The dormitory door opened with a creak and Harry stood up like a gun had been fired, turning toward the person. Draco was standing in the doorway, a curious look on his face.

"What're you doing?" the blond boy asked, taking a few steps forward.

"Nothing," Harry replied, gradually pushing the cage back under his bed with his foot.

"It doesn't seem like nothing. You've been coming down here all week," Draco responded, suspicious. "And we haven't been practicing our transformations. I mean, I know we got caught, but you usually don't care about that."

"It's not that. It has nothing to do with that," Harry said, putting his hands in his pockets. He hated when he was going to lie, especially to his best mate. "It's just…I thought we could take a break from all the practice. You know, like a small holiday. We'll start practicing tomorrow. I promise."

"Okay, good. Just wondering." He paused for a moment, looking around the room. "Anyway, you've been down here quite a long time—"

"Stomach ache," Harry said, nodding slightly. "Crabbe gave me one of those fairycakes. Must've eaten it too fast."

Draco nodded, but his eyes were still narrowed. "Well, I'll be upstairs. Let me know if you want to go into Hogsmeade or transform." He looked at Harry one last time, and then turned out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Harry exhaled deeply, looking at the floor. He didn't like lying to Draco, but there was no way he could tell him about having seen Black, about the fact that Pettigrew could still be alive, or about what he was going to do later that night. Draco would probably think he was completely out of his mind and never believe him. But what he really didn't like was the fact that he was getting better at lying every time, even when he was put on the spot, and even when it was to people he cared about. If he didn't know better, he would say that he was loosing his morals, but Harry just laughed at the idea. Lying couldn't make him less of an honorable person…could it?

------

Harry glanced at his watch – only twenty minutes to eight o'clock. Though he was sitting on a couch near the unlit fireplace with Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle, he pretended he had to use the toilet and went downstairs. Not a minute later, he was back in the crowded common room under his Invisibility Cloak, holding the cage in his left hand, his wand in his pocket.

"Where'd Harry go?" Harry overhead Blaise ask, looking around the room.

"Went to the loo, I think," Draco responded, a smirk on his face as he slumped on a couch. He was flicking his wand at a first year girl's inkbottle, which was hovering just above her reach.

Harry made sure the Cloak was covering his feet, and then pressed his hand to the wall, which slide away to let him leave. He made his way outside, seeing only Colin Creevey, who, as he constantly glanced over his shoulder, took numerous photographs of the suits of armor. As Harry opened one of the front doors, knowing he would be passing the Dementors, he concentrated on the bright, white flashes of light and the noisy shutter of the camera.

Ten minutes later, Harry was standing outside the Womping Willow, glancing quickly back at the castle to make sure no one was watching. He took off the Cloak and stuffed it in his pocket, feeling the warm breeze on his skin as he looked around for the long stick to prod the knot.

A bark made Harry turn to his left, toward the Forbidden Forest, where he saw a dark shadow with yellow eyes. Scabbers squeaked piercingly at the sound. Gradually, the short, wide form changed into a thin, taller figure, and made its way toward Harry, who could only gaze back, somewhat hesitantly knowing who it was.

"Good evening, Harry," Black uttered casually.

"Er…good evening," Harry replied. He held up the cage with Scabbers, who had crammed himself into a corner. "I have him."

"Good, good. We'd better inside before any sees me." Black looked toward the darkened castle, then picked up a long, crooked stick and prodded the knot.

When the two of them were inside the dusty room from the prior week, Harry set down the cage on the broken bed as Black leaned against the wall, watching Harry. "I'm going to prove it to you, Harry, that I'm not a murderer, that I'm on your side."

Harry turned toward the man with the dark, sunken eyes. Though he didn't trust him, something in his words made Harry want to believe him, and he nodded. They waited a for minutes for Lupin with awkward glances in an awkward silence, and were relieved when he finally arrived.

"Good evening, Harry…Sirius," Lupin said, nodding to each of them.

"Thank you for the food, Remus. It was much appreciated," Black remarked. Lupin shrugged casually, as if to say it was nothing. Black started toward the cage, saying that he didn't want to wait anymore. "Twelve years is long enough."

Black grabbed the cage brusquely, looking intently at the rat inside, as he took out his wand; Lupin followed suit, taking his wand from his shabby robe. Seeing as the adults had their wands out, despite the fact that he wasn't performing the spell, he decided it was best he did the same.

"What are you going to do to him?" Harry inquired, standing off to the side.

"There's a spell that will force him to show himself," Lupin answered, his gaze still on the metal cage in his old friend's hands.

"You mean if it's Pettigrew."

"Oh, it's Pettigrew. There's no doubt about that," Black assured, a malicious, terrifying smirk disfiguring his face.

Black placed the cage on the dusty floor, took a step back, and glanced at Lupin, who said, "The honor's all yours." The emaciated man, his black eyes focused, flicked his wand at the cage, whose small door opened with a cold snap as metal hit metal. The pink-eared rat ran out of the enclosure; Black pointed his wand again at the small animal, but the white-blue light of the spell missed by a mere inch. The rat squeaked as it scurried across the floor, heading toward the boarded up window.

Lupin aimed his wand with precision and hit his mark. The rat changed into a man before Harry's very eyes. A head swelled in size, limbs shot out, also growing, and then a torso followed to match. A squat, chubby man with light brown hair flaked with gray was now standing in front of them.

Harry, astonished, glanced at Sirius Black, who met his eyes for a moment and then turned back, his posture rigid, his wand at the ready.

Lupin, standing slightly more casual and nonchalant, though his wand was raised, kept his eyes on Peter Pettigrew. "Hello, Peter. It's been such a long time."

Pettigrew's small eyes darted toward Lupin, then Black, then Harry, and back to Lupin. "Remus…Sirius…my f–friends…how–how have you b–been?"

Black stepped forward, his pale complexion reddening. "How have I been? _How have I been?_ I've been in Azkaban, Peter! Only just got out, but, of course, you knew that."

"I–I didn't know anything! I've been a rat the whole time, all these years!" Pettigrew squeaked.

"And why would you do that? Why would you pretend to be a rat, something you're obviously not?" Black paused to let a sarcastic laugh escape his lips. "Well, then again, you were always good at it, weren't you? Fooled us, anyway."

Harry stood off to the side, simply staring, knowing that this part of the conversation was bigger than him; these tense words went way back, and were raising up powerful, deep-rooted emotions that had never really gone away.

Pettigrew backed away from Black and looked, pleadingly, at Lupin. "Remus, you don't believe a word he's saying, do you? He's a murderer! He killed Lily and James! He was working for You-Know-Who! I–I was hiding to get away from him!"

"Hiding for twelve years, Peter? That's an awfully long time, don't you think?" Black interjected.

"Not long enough apparently!"

"Why didn't you show yourself, Peter, if you knew you were innocent? Once you found out Sirius was in prison?" Lupin asked, calmly.

"I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd try to find me! He nearly succeeded in killing me; he couldn't just let it go!" Peter said shrilly, backing away further.

"You _knew_ he'd come after you? When no one has broken out of Azkaban before?" Lupin inquired, curious and bewildered.

"Look at him! He's mad, completely out of his mind! I knew he'd figure out a way to escape! He's got dark, terrible powers!"

"Me? 'Dark, terrible powers'?" Black laughed, scornfully. "I don't have many dark and terrible powers if I couldn't even kill you, filth-of-the-earth. But don't worry, I'll kill you now."

"See what I mean, Remus! He's going to kill me! He's been planning it all along!"

"Of course I've been planning it, you piece of shit!" Black yelled. "I've been locked up in Azkaban and you didn't think I'd be planning to kill the man who murdered my best friend, whose jail time I've done, and who got me there in the bloody first place!" He took a few steps forward with eyes wide from rage, his hand tightly clutching his wand. "_I'm going to kill you RIGHT NOW!_"

Lupin grabbed Black's arm and pulled him back, forcibly. "Sirius, not yet." Quieter, he added, "_Not in front of Harry_." Black let his right hand fall to his side, as he looked at Harry, and Lupin released his grip.

Taking a back, Harry glanced at the floor for a moment, hearing what Lupin had said. Though his palms felt unusually warm and sweaty, he disliked that Black would restrain himself from giving Peter Pettigrew what he rightfully deserves because he was in the room. Harry had as much a right to see Pettigrew die as Black and Lupin, because what Pettigrew had done affected them all, him even more so. However, this did not seem the time to voice his opinion on the matter.

Peter, now backed against the wall, mumbled, "This is why I stayed in hiding from him."

"No, not from me, you coward. You were hiding from your old Death Eater pals," Black retorted. Pettigrew opened his mouth to speak, but the dark-haired man continued, "Don't deny it. No one here believes your lies, Peter. We all know what you really did. Remus and Harry know we switched as Secret Keeper; they know it was you who gave James and Lily to Voldemort; they also know that I went after _you_ that night, the night _you_ blew up the street killing all those people.

"You cut off your own finger to fake your death, but it wasn't to get away from me. I was in prison – and you can claim to know I would escape, even though I had no idea – but you were really hiding from Voldemort's other followers."

Pettigrew cringed at the name, trying to sink as much as he could into the wall. "No, you're lying! You're one of You-Know-Who's followers, not me!"

"How dare you consider me be one of Voldemort's followers! How dare you think that I would ever betray my friends!" Black bellowed. He gathered his breath and said more calmly, "If it was a choice between Voldemort and death, I would choose death, Peter. I would die for my friends."

Pettigrew just stared, his face pale and sweaty, and Harry could see that the man's eyes kept glancing at the door on the opposite side of the room and the window to his left.

"It was a bluff, wasn't it?" Lupin asked of Black. "You made Peter Secret Keeper because—"

"Because I thought Voldemort would be sure to overlook someone as feeble and pathetic as him. Little did I know he had been working for Voldemort all along." Sirius Black stared at Pettigrew, seemingly without blinking. "You must have loved it – being able to trick us and we never had a clue. I should have known though, there were so many signs, but I just disregarded them: You never went to anything social, you became much more aggressive, and I remember you telling me you stayed up all hours of the night. But who would think that the small, shy boy I had known growing up was working for the most evil man alive?" He paused, and Harry knew even Black had to take in the words he was saying. "When you told Voldemort you knew where the Potters were, it must have been the greatest day of your life. You were probably immediately promoted to his inner circle. C'mon, Peter, what else did he offer you? What's the price for giving up one of your best friends?"

"You're mad!" cried Pettigrew.

"Stop evading the issue, Peter, we're all tired of it!"

Peter Pettigrew's eyes darted to Harry, who was still standing somewhat off to the side near the broken bed. "I–I'm not evading anything! I've been in Hogwarts for three years and I never even hurt Harry! I have no reason to hurt him!"

"Of course there's no reason to hurt him – at least not at the moment. You never hurt Harry because there was nothing in it for you."

Black exhaled, possibly in an attempt to compose himself somewhat. "Now I understand why you became a nice addition to a Wizarding family – it would enable you to hear all the circulating news on Voldemort should he come back to power. If he did regain power, you would be the first to go back to him, landing in his good graces, and you would also be able to give him Harry, the last Potter, ensuring you were one of his favorites. Am I correct, Peter?"

Pettigrew only mumbled under his breath, his ashen face losing more color.

"You were the only one who knew," Harry interjected. He was slowly coming to terms with all of Black's angry clarifications of Pettigrew. Black and Lupin turned to him, intrigued by his remark. "You saw Pettigrew in the picture and it merely confirmed that he was still alive – twelve years is a long time and anything could've happened – and then you must have realized why he was with the Weasley family. You knew he was biding his time as he kept an eye one me, waiting for Voldemort to show himself again. That's why you had to get out of Azkaban. You were the only one who knew he was still alive. You got out, not to pursue me, but to help me."

"I told you, Harry, I would never hurt you. I'm on your side," Sirius Black replied, earnestly.

Harry nodded slowly. "I know."

"No, Harry!" cried Pettigrew, taking a few steps forward. "It's a lie! He's deceitful! He's switched it all around!" He fell to his knees on the grimy floor, shuffling towards the boy, hands clasped together. "I'm your friend, Harry. You won't let him kill me, will you?"

Harry was startled to see a full-grown man drawing nearer to him on his knees, begging to keep his life. To Pettigrew, it seemed to be his decision. Did Sirius and Lupin feel the same?

However, Pettigrew didn't wait for a response from Harry, instead he turned to Lupin, who was to Harry's left. "Remus, help me. We're friends. Don't let him kill me." He was literally squirming in front of them, though Harry couldn't tell whether it was out of fear or for show. "W–wouldn't he have told you, Remus, that he had switched with me, if he was good?"

"How good he was or is isn't the question, Peter. He would've told me, I'm sure, if he didn't already think I might be the spy, and I must admit that I, too, thought he was a traitor," replied Lupin, looking down upon Pettigrew. He glanced at Sirius to say, "Forgive me, my friend."

"Only if you forgive me for letting you believe that I was a murderer for twelve years," Sirius remarked with a tiny smile, which Lupin returned.

"He will be a murderer if you let him kill me!" Pettigrew squealed from on his knees. "You need me, Sirius, you need me alive! If you want to shed your regard as a criminal, then you need me alive to attest it."

"I think your dead body would suffice," Sirius remarked, pointing his wand at the mousy-looking man, "especially since it should be bones by now. But what I can't understand is what's in it for you, Peter?"

"My life."

Sirius gave a derisive laugh. "I've waited twelve years for this. If you're going to beg for your life, you have to do better than that."

**A/N:** First off, HAPPY HOLIDAYS! I hope you're all enjoying your small break from work or school! I know I certainly am!

Secondly, I've been writing an original story titled _Somnambulism_, so I was wondering if you guys would be interested in reading the first chapter. You don't have to, of course; I would just really appreciate it. The chapter still has changes that need to be made and additional little things that have to be written in, but as it is now I was wondering if you would read it? If you want to (Thanks in advance!), then you can go to www. freewebs .com /black_ink_drips/apps/blog. If you have any criticisms or comments or questions just leave a comment (you have to click comment towards the top).

Happy Hanukkah or Merry Christmas or Happy Kwanza!

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**Preview of** **Chapter 37—The Trap of Entanglement:**

Unfortunately, an unexpected visitor appears at the Shrieking Shack and ruins Harry, Lupin, and Black's plans to amend Sirius Black's name as a murderer, and things are further ruined when the group emerges in the moonlight…


	37. The Trap of Entanglement

"If history repeats itself, and the unexpected always happens, how incapable must Man be of learning from experience."

-George Bernard Shaw

**37**

**The Trap of Entanglement**

"You need me, Sirius, you need me alive! If you want to shed your regard as a criminal, then you need me alive to attest it."

"I think your dead body would suffice," Sirius remarked, pointing his wand at the mousy-looking man, "especially since it should be bones by now. But what I can't understand is what's in it for you, Peter?"

"My life," Peter squeaked.

Sirius gave a derisive laugh. "I've waited twelve years for this. If you're going to beg for your life, you have to do better than that."

Realizing Sirius was telling the truth, Peter Pettigrew dragged himself toward Harry, and, with a flushed face, began to grovel at his feet. "Please, Harry, don't let him kill me! Don't let him do it! I was your father's friend! He wouldn't want them to kill me! He wouldn't want them to become murderers! Please, have mercy! _Have mercy!"_

Harry gaped at the man at his feet. He glanced up at Lupin and Sirius, then back down at Pettigrew, who was nearly at the point of tears. After a moment of silence, he realized what he had to do, what his father would have wanted him to do, and said, "He's right. My father wouldn't have wanted you to become murderers, especially by killing _him_." Harry spat the last word, looking down at the kneeling Pettigrew. "It's not worth it. Let him go to Azkaban, where he deserves to be. With him alive, you'll be a free man, Sirius. He'll have to tell the world the truth."

Sirius lowered his wand hand. "Harry, you know he's the reason you have no parents; that he wouldn't think twice about your death."

"Exactly. We'll be the better people."

Lupin moved toward Pettigrew, keeping an eye on him, as Sirius nodded, understandingly, at Harry.

"T–thank you, Harry, thank you! Y–you are as great a person as your f–father," Pettigrew stammered in relief. He clutched at the bottom of Harry's robes, the tears now falling freely down the surface of his flushed cheeks.

Harry backed away, repulsed, and pulled the fabric from Pettigrew's stubby fingers. "Don't touch me! And don't mention my father! You have no right to!" Pettigrew recoiled, tears staining his face. The raven-haired boy further moved away from the cowering figure.

"I'm going to tie him up, Harry. It'll be easier to bring him to the castle. He won't be able to escape," Lupin explained, his wand at chest level, and Harry nodded at the idea.

Pettigrew, however, didn't seem keen about being bound, and showed his opposition by standing and backing away toward the broken, tattered bed. "Remus, I–I don't need to be tied up! I promise I won't run; no funny business, I swear!"

"I'm afraid you no longer have a bargaining chip, Peter, not with us." Lupin stepped forward as Pettigrew stepped back. Harry seemed to be watching a duel, where one side was clearly winning. His professor aimed his wand and said, "_Incarcerous!_"

The force of the thick ropes shooting out and winding themselves around Peter Pettigrew's body, knocked him backward. The cords pressed his arms and legs together, gagging him as he squirmed on the floor. Harry could barely see him from where he stood, but he could hear him crying out, incoherently, from behind the ruined bed. Sirius seemed barely able to stand it, and he, too, raised his wand at the man he once called a friend. "_Stupefy!_" The mumbling instantly vanished. Sirius simply shrugged.

There was a long period of silence. In the distance, they could hear wild owls hooting nearby, the howling winds passing the aged wood they were enclosed in, and the occasional creak of the floorboards. Harry gathered his thoughts, wondering what this all meant for the future and reflecting on the recent past. He glanced up at the two men, seeing that Lupin was staring at the floor and Sirius was watching Pettigrew's motionless form.

"I think it's about time we took him to the castle, Harry," Lupin announced after a minute. "Dumbledore will want to see him. He'll probably have questions of his own." He took a deep breath. "Once we get into the castle, we'll have to be careful – Snape's patrolling tonight."

Under his breath, Sirius muttered, "Git." He turned to Harry. "Do you know what happened in our fifth year?"

At the same moment Lupin said, "No," Harry responded with, "Yes," completely forgetting to keep his escape from Snape's house a secret. His professor turned to him in curiosity, his eyes narrowed. A small, guilty smile crossed Harry's lips. "I…err…followed you and Snape under the Invisibility Cloak to the Hog's Head. I overheard the whole story…and then some. I I_also_/I heard you say that you wanted me to give Snape hell, and believe me I tried my best. Couldn't let—"

The door burst open and smacked the wall, creating a small cloud of dust. A dark figure stood in the doorway with a raised wand. The man growled, "_Expelliarmus!_", making Sirius' wand fly out of his hand. Harry gripped his wand tighter when the person with shoulder-length black hair and a hooked nose moved into the light.

"I should have known," Severus Snape drawled. "You never listen to anything anyone tells you, Potter. You never consider the rules. And why should you? They don't apply to you, The Boy Who Lived." He took a few more steps into the room, pointing his wand at Sirius. "And now you're here, after hours, out of bounds, with an escaped criminal."

"Mind your own business, Snape!" Sirius barked, striding towards the door, his eyes meeting Snape's.

"Quiet, Black! Or it will be the last thing you ever say." Snape dug his wand into Sirius' chest. "Murderer."

Looking intently at Snape, Sirius mumbled, "Look who's talking." The long wand at his chest was pushed deeper. He grimaced.

"You don't know what you're talking about! Sirius isn't a murderer! He didn't hurt anyone, and he hasn't been trying to kill me!" Harry yelled from beside Lupin.

"You would do well to be quiet, Potter." Snape glared at Harry, their dark eyes meeting.

"Everyone just calm down," Lupin said, looking at Snape. "How did you even know we were here?"

"The details are irrelevant, but I followed you. However, if Hagrid hadn't disrupted me on the way, I would have been here already," Snape explained.

"Well, then, you came at the right time, Severus, we have—"

Lupin was interrupted by Harry, who stepped forward to say, "If you followed Lupin then you must have overhead the conversation with Pettigrew just minutes ago!"

"I only just arrived here, Potter, or have you not been listening?" Snape spat. "Black must have Confunded you if you actually believe you spoke to the deceased Peter Pettigrew."

Harry, growing irate, stepped toward the greasy man as he pointed to the bed. "He's right over there! Pettigrew's behind the bed! Just _look!_"

"Enough of this! Black is being brought to the castle – unfortunately the call to bring you to the Dementors was overturned months ago – but you'll be seeing them soon enough once you're back in Azkaban. However, it looks as if I'll have to bring you as well," Snape said to Lupin, "for it seems you've been helping Black into the castle after all."

"I have not been helping Sirius into the castle, Severus!" Lupin asserted. "But Harry is telling the truth! Sirius isn't the one who betrayed the Potter's, it was Pettigrew and he's still alive!"

"Looks like Black Confunded you as well. A shame you couldn't see past your old friendship with him."

"Severus, put your wand down and listen to what Sirius has to say!" Lupin exclaimed.

"Enough, Lupin!" Snape bellowed with a reddened face. "You first, then Potter, then Black and myself will follow."

Lupin moved toward the door, hands up with palms out at chest level, showing that he was complying since it was obvious Snape wasn't playing any games. But Sirius, still at the end of Snape's wand, said, "You're pathetic! There's no reason for us to trick you into seeing the truth! You just can't let go of the past, Snape!"

"Neither can you, it seems!" Snape argued. "Still going after Potter and he defeated You-Know-Who twelve years ago!"

"I'm not after Harry, you brainless git! I'm after Pettigrew!"

"Azkaban has driven you mad!" blurted Snape at Sirius.

"I'm not crazy! Look behind the bloody bed!"

"Silence!" Snape, face red, eyes wide, waved his wand at Sirius. "_Incarcerous!_" Brown cord wrapped itself around his body, twisting around his emaciated torso.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Lupin yelled, raising his wand arm. But Snape was quicker. "_Incarcerous!_" With rope around his upper body, arms, and legs, he fell to the floor a few feet from Sirius.

Harry shouted, "What's wrong with you?! Lupin never did anything! He hasn't been helping Sirius into the castle!" He dashed toward Lupin's bound form and knelt beside him, pressing his wand against the rope about to untie him.

"I would reconsider," Snape remarked, pointing his wand at the boy. "Don't make me Stun you, Potter."

"Go ahead," uttered Harry. "I know you won't. I'm a student."

"Don't be so sure. Now back away. And don't even think about using your wand – I'll know what you're going to do before even you do."

Harry stood up and backed away from the two bound men, catching a glance from Sirius. He looked at Snape, whose wand was still aimed at him. "Just listen to me! If you stop and hear what we have to say, then you'll know the truth. It'll only take five minutes."

"If you know what's good for you, _then you'll be quiet_," Snape instructed. He pointed his wand at Sirius, then Lupin. "_Mobilicorpus!_" Both bodies lifted a few inches off the ground, directed by Snape's wand. Harry was about to go behind the bed himself and attempt to drag Pettigrew's body out, but then Snape turned to him and pointed his wand at the door, indicating for Harry to go through it first.

The strange parade walked, and hovered, through the gloomy Shrieking Shack, and then through the dark, earthy tunnel. Just as they were reaching the gap in the Womping Willow, Harry couldn't help but speak up.

"You're _completely_ wrong," Harry muttered angrily.

"You've been Confunded."

"I have _not_ been Confunded! If you had just looked behind the bed, you would've seen Pettigrew," added Harry, turning around to face his professor. "I can tell you exactly what he looks like, but he supposedly died a few months after I turned one. Now how can that be?"

"You're picture album," Snape muttered, irritated. "I've seen you looking at it. I know there are pictures of him in it. You asked me about him…_remember?_"

Harry opened his mouth in response, but had nothing to retort. Snape was right: He had pictures of Pettigrew in his red album. How could he have forgotten about it? As Harry racked his brain for a reason Snape would believe Pettigrew was alive, Snape began to smirk at Harry's silence.

"Keep moving, Potter. The quicker we get to the castle, the better."

They emerged from the large, wild tree and began to make their way toward the massive castle. Wind blew past them, cutting through their clothes to chill their skin; soft, white moonlight streamed down upon them, and creatures howled and hooted in the nearby forest. Then an unusual sound filled the air: a noise like a mixture of a growl and a grumble. Harry and Snape turned to the two floating men behind them to see Lupin struggling against the thick ropes.

Suddenly, realizing what it must mean, Harry gazed toward the sky, finding a large, white moon looming overhead. "The full moon! He's changing!"

"You know?" Snape asked, inquisitive, despite the worry in his face. Harry nodded, but he was looking at the writhing Lupin, who was still hovering in mid-air. Beside him, seeing what was going on, Sirius started to mumble against the rope, clearly wanting to be put down. "Get back, Potter."

"Put Sirius down. He can't run anyway," Harry called as he took a few steps back.

With a flick of Snape's wand, Sirius and Lupin hit the ground with a thud. Harry dashed over, grabbed the rope around the escaped man, and proceeded to pull him, with difficulty, away from Lupin's thrashing.

Harry watched as Lupin, his form growing in size, ripped the fraying rope from his body and tore it to shreds. He stood up as the skin on his face and hands changed into thick, brown hair; a muzzle grew out on his face; his ears enlarged; his shoulders and back hunched as his hands became clawed. Lupin let out a loud snarl and then faced Snape, who was standing with his wand raised only a few feet in front of the newly-changed werewolf.

"Run, Potter!" yelled Snape without turning.

"No, not without Sirius!"

The werewolf growled, heading for Snape, who tried to Stun him, but Lupin dodged the bright red light and attempted a swipe at him. Lupin then turned and saw Harry and Sirius, and growled even louder with a heaving chest, preparing to go toward them several feet away.

Off in the distance, a long, low howl sounded from the Forbidden Forest. The werewolf turned toward the forest, glanced back at Harry, and then ran off, going into the dense, dark woods.

Snape and Harry watched the large creature disappear between the trees. The greasy man backed up slowly, keeping an eye on the place where Lupin departed. He then turned to Harry and the bound Sirius. "Let's go. _Now_," Snape emphasized.

"You didn't give him the Wolfsbane Potion, did you?" Harry inquired.

"_How do you know about that, Potter?_" Snape asked quickly. "Did Professor Dumbledore tell you?" He flicked his wand and Sirius was lifted a few inches off the ground once more.

They started toward the castle, keeping a quick pace. "No, I've barely seen him the entire year." Harry knew Snape was going to ask how he found out, so he just came out with it. "I was in Lupin's office once when you brought the Wolfsbane Potion in, and even though you didn't say what it was by name, I figured it out. So, did you? Did you give him the potion?"

"No, I didn't. Truth be told, I was on my way when I saw Lupin and followed him," replied Snape. "You should be lucky I had."

"I would've been just fine if you hadn't," Harry blurted, frustrated. Snape turned to glare at him, but said nothing.

The rest of the journey to the castle was done in complete silence.

* * *

"Come in!" Dumbledore piped, almost cheerfully, from the other side of the Headmaster's office door. Harry turned the handle slowly, feeling the cold metal against his sweaty palm, and walked into the large, object-infested room followed by Snape and a bound Sirius. Dumbledore looked up from reading the evening newspaper, eyes widened and eyebrows raised. He stood from his seat.

"Professor, I've caught Black," Snape began. "He was in the Shrieking Shack with Potter and Professor Lupin. I had Lupin bound as well, but, regrettably, it's a full moon tonight. It's just as I thought: he and Black were conspiring together—"

"They weren't conspiring! Lupin has nothing to do with this and Black is innocent. He isn't a murderer!" Harry exclaimed. "Professor Dumbledore, Peter Pettigrew is still alive and he's in the Shrieking Shack this very moment!"

"Harry, calm down," Dumbledore said quietly, moving around his desk to stand in front of them. "I will listen to your side of the story, but there are a few things I must do first." Dumbledore turned to Snape. "Severus, send the Minister an urgent letter." The greasy-haired man released Sirius from the Hovering Charm and then left the room hesitantly. The headmaster continued, "There is an overdue conversation with Sirius Black that I must have, Harry, and then I will return. Please, take a seat."

Without nodding or saying a word, Harry turned away from his headmaster and took a seat before the wooden, paper-laden, letter-infested desk. Although, when he heard the door close, he stood up, fury and exasperation coursing through his warm veins, and he knew there was no way he could sit and wait. He paced back and forth, riled that Dumbledore wouldn't listen to what he had to say immediately, and apprehensive that Pettigrew had transformed into a rat and ran away, never be found again.

Every so often, Harry stopped to glance at the door, sure that he had heard footsteps, but it was only his imagination. He looked at his watch to find that ten minutes had come and gone, though it had seemed like a half-hour. Sick of pacing, he went to the window, which overlooked part of the Hogwarts grounds, some of the dark forest, and the somewhat intimidating Quidditch pitch.

However, he couldn't help but speculate when Dumbledore would be back.

**A/N:** Happy New Year!! Happy 2009! Sorry the update is a day late, by the way. My Facebook was hacked and my mom freaked out, thinking that I was going to get a virus on my beloved computer. So I had to update my McAfee and see if there was a virus or not (luckily, there wasn't!) And luckily, I keep all my work (fan fiction and original) on USB's! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and have a great first week of oh-nine!

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Preview of Chapter 38—**Once, Twice The** **Hourglass Turns:**

Harry has an aggravating chat with Snape; Dumbledore talks with him about rescuing Sirius, and then he finally goes into the past…


	38. Once, Twice The Hourglass Turns

"What if a demon were to creep after you one night, in your loneliest loneliness, and say, 'This life which you live must be lived by you once again and innumerable times more; and every pain and joy and thought and sigh must come again to you, all in the same sequence. The eternal hourglass will again and again be turned and you with it, dust of the dust!' Would you throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse that demon? Or would you answer, 'Never have I heard anything more divine'?"

-Friedrich Nietzsche

**38**

**Once, Twice The** **Hourglass Turns**

The door opened slowly nearly a half-hour later. Harry turned swiftly, but the man who entered was greasy and composed, though his manner was less so than usual. Snape strode further into the room, barely glancing at the boy, and took a seat at one of the armchairs in front of the desk.

Harry moved from the window to the center of the room, behind where Snape sat, slightly slumped with crossed arms, to pace once more. He let out an angry sigh, then a minute later, let out another one.

"Potter, if you sigh like a girl one more time, I will be forced to put a Silencing Spell on you," Snape remarked without turning.

"I should have put one on you before," Harry replied in resentment. He stopped pacing. "Lupin and Sirius aren't scheming together to get into the castle, nor were they ever. Professor Lupin had no idea Sirius was here. _He_ followed _me_."

Snape turned in the chair to glare fiercely at Harry. "Then how did you know Black was here? _Did he kidnap you?_ _Lure you with sweets?_…Or were you out after curfew, happened to see Black, and followed him? Personally, I would guess the latter, but that's just me."

Harry tried to disregard what Snape said, and added, "There was no reason for me to lie about Pettigrew being alive. And I was _not_ Confunded! If you had just looked, you would've seen him in the Shrieking Shack!"

"Of course you have no reason to lie, Potter. He was your father's old friend. But Pettigrew is _dead_."

"Says who?!"

"Says numerous witnesses!"

"Numerous _Muggle_ witnesses! They wouldn't know what really happened, would they?"

"And you suppose Black would be a good witness? Of course he would call Pettigrew the murderer, he simply doesn't want to go back to Azkaban!" Snape exclaimed. "But what do you presume really happened then, Potter?"

"I'm not presuming, I know what happened," Harry said sternly. "I know Sirius and Pettigrew switched as Secret Keeper for my parents without telling anyone. I know Sirius found out that Pettigrew had told Voldemort where my parents were. I know Sirius went to confront Pettigrew, not the other way around, and I know that when Pettigrew saw that there was no way he could leave without faking his death, he decided to do just that by cutting off his own finger, blowing up the street, and killing thirteen innocent people. And I _know_ Sirius took Pettigrew's rightful place in Azkaban prison."

"You don't know any of that for sure, Potter, you're merely guess—"

The Headmaster's office door opened with a soft groan, and both dark-haired males turned toward the tall, lean, bearded individual. Snape stood as Dumbledore crept, gracefully, towards his desk. "Severus, if I may, I would like to speak to Harry alone. Return to your office and I will be down shortly to hear your side of this enticing story." Snape nodded, his dark hair swaying slightly as it framed his pale face, and he left the room, barely making a sound with his footsteps.

When Harry turned to look at his headmaster, he found him already sitting behind his desk, looking quite comfortable. "Harry, please, take a seat."

"Professor, it wasn't Sirius. You have to believe me, you have to believe _him!_ It was Pettigrew and he's still alive! He could still be in the Shrieking Shack! If we just go there and get him, you'll see the truth, the world will see the truth!" Harry exclaimed, almost out of breath, his face becoming flushed. "Professor, there's no other reason for me to defend Sirius when this whole year I believed he was trying to kill me unless I knew he and Pettigrew had switched as Secret Keeper!"

Dumbledore prevented him from continuing his explanation by raising a hand. "I understand, Harry, that you're distressed; you want to speed this up to go back to the Shrieking Shack to collect Peter Pettigrew—"

"So you believe me?" Harry asked, unable to control himself.

"Yes, I believe you. The information is consistent, and adds up much better than the original story. Now, we only have one chance to do this correctly, Harry, and let me finish before you ask any more questions. Sirius Black was in Professor Flitwick's office in the West Tower accessible by the seventh floor. He wasalone for about five minutes between the time in which I spoke with him and when the Minister of Magic spoke with him. At this very moment, Black is being escorted out of the castle in shackles by Fudge and numerous Hit Wizards. After you can get him out of the tower, and dodge Fudge and his men, then he must leave the school grounds immediately. However, make sure he knows that I must stay informed on where he's hiding."

"Professor, I don't understand…I can't help Sirius I_now_/I He's in already being taken to Azkaban."

Dumbledore reached his hand into one of his robe pockets, extracting a thin, luminous gold chain followed by a large hourglass-shaped object. He laid it carefully on the desk atop the spread-out papers, the chain curved into meandering waves while Harry stared at it. He recognized what it was immediately, though the one his headmaster had just put down was slighter bigger than the one he had taken from Snape's house.

"Do you know what this is, Harry?"

"It's a Time-Turner," the boy replied.

"And one that I had to borrow from an old friend of yours, Harry, so do not lose or break it. These objects are usually highly guarded and regulated by the Ministry, and by borrowing it, I saved myself plenty of paperwork and waiting time. I _must_ have it back."

"But how is that really going to help? Can I prevent Sirius from being caught by Sna–Professor Snape?"

"No, you mustn't prevent Black from being caught, because you cannot, under no circumstances, be seen by anyone, especially yourself. As I stated previously, you must go to the tower and help Black flee," Dumbledore explained firmly. "But, Harry, however much you want to capture Peter Pettigrew, you must not change anything that occurred in the Shrieking Shack—"

"You mean I have to let Pettigrew escape!" Harry exclaimed with wide eyes.

"I do not want Pettigrew to get away, Harry, by no means, so I am giving you one chance to capture him. When you revisit the past, I want you to check the Shrieking Shack to see if he is still bound behind the bed. If he's not, just leave, because there is nothing you can do." Dumbledore met Harry's eyes, and continued, "However, if he's still present, you must immobilize him, take him to the front steps of the castle, and then unfreeze him. Be sure to wear your Invisibility Cloak – you _cannot_ be seen. The Dementors will guard him there and he will be unable to transform, and not soon after, the Minister will find him. Then it is essential you get to Black."

"But if the Minister if going to see Pettigrew, why should I go to Sirius? Won't he be a free man?" Harry asked.

"I want Black to escape whether or not Pettigrew is in the Shrieking Shack because I know it will take more than just seeing the man for Fudge to truly believe it. He will want to question him thoroughly. And, knowing the Minister, he would put Black back behind bars again, and he does not deserve that. Fudge has a knack of being skeptical even if the evidence lies before him. But enough of that..."

Dumbledore picked up the chain delicately, and handed it to Harry, who had to lean over the edge of the desk to grasp it. "Rotate the Time-Turner once; it will bring you back one hour."

The headmaster stood from his cushioned seat and made his way toward the door, as did Harry from his armchair. Dumbledore motioned for Harry to leave the room, and then gracefully ambled through, but he didn't close the door.

"I will remind you once again that I must stay in touch with Black about his whereabouts," Dumbledore added, his half-moon spectacles showing the flickering of a torch, which hung behind Harry. "Now, it is imperative you return to my office just as I'm closing this door. The time is ten to ten. Do you understand, Harry?"

"Yes," he said, but the burden of what he was about to do weighed him down. He worried if it was possible to bring Pettigrew to justice and help Sirius escape all in one single hour. And although Dumbledore was giving him a chance to catch Pettigrew, the man would probably have transformed by now. There would have been no reason for him to stay bound and gagged after the group left if he could simply turn into a rat.

Then something clicked in his mind: if he went back two hours to just before eight o'clock, then there might be a chance to detain Peter Pettigrew, and he would have additional time to prepare for Sirius' break out from the castle. He would only have to immobilize one more person to make sure there was evidence if things went awry.

"Are you ready?"

Harry met Dumbledore's twinkling eyes and nodded. He turned away from his headmaster to put the cold chain around his neck. Staring intently at the yellow-gold Time-Turner, he rotated it twice, genuinely hoping this worked out for the best.

Instantly, air whirled swiftly around him as dark and light shades of gray, yellow, and gold flew before his eyes and his head felt compressed. Then it was over, and Harry saw he was still in the headmaster's stairwell, although Dumbledore was now gone. Even from where he stood, he could hear the scraping of a quill against parchment on the other side of the door.

With no time to lose, Harry pulled his Invisibility Cloak from his pocket and wrenched it over himself, before dashing down the stairs, past the two statues at the foot of the steps, and made his way toward the Entrance Hall. Though he tried to stifle the sound of his footsteps on the marble, he didn't care if he was heard. He simply needed to get downstairs.

In a few minutes, he was breathing heavily at the foot of the stairs, watching thin, fidgety Colin Creevey put the black camera to his right eye and take a snapshot of one of the large, dark metal suits of armor. He regained his breath as he waited for the moment he knew he would be able to freeze Creevey. Not soon after, one of the front doors opened and closed leisurely, and the time had come.

Brandishing his wand, Harry moved cautiously, silently, towards Creevey. "_Petrificus Totalus!_" he exclaimed with a flick of his wand. Creevey turned, eyes nervous and baffled, toward the stairs, seeing nothing, when the spell hit him in the chest, and he froze from head to toe.

Harry, knowing he would be unable to move Creevey otherwise, said, "_Mobilicorpus!_" The second year boy lifted off of the ground. Harry moved him, holding his wand at chest level, to a nearby broom closet, where he then set down the immobilized Creevey. Putting his wand back into his pocket, he reached beneath his Invisibility Cloak to snatch, with some difficulty, the camera between the boy's stiffened fingers.

Though Harry had sought to be quick to obtain the camera, in order to make sure Creevey hadn't left the Entrance Hall, he realized that there was nothing much else to do until he, Sirius, Lupin, and Snape left through the Womping Willow, and that wasn't for – he checked his watch – another hour and fifteen minutes.

What was he supposed to do while he waited?

* * *

* * *

**If Harry Had ****_Not_**** Gone Back in Time:**

Colin Creevey was content with taking photographs of the highly-reflective suits of armor. Though he liked taking pictures of people – the students and professors doing their daily, everyday magical tasks – and landscapes around Hogwarts – the tall, mysterious trees of the Forbidden Forest, though he would never dare go in; the sweeping mountain range in the distance; the rolls of the grassy hills around the castle – he would take pictures of anything in the magical world, so long as it inspired him.

And at the moment, these giant, metal men were doing just that. He liked that they mirrored the torches in the room.

Creevey glanced over his shoulder, silently, to make sure no professors were nearby, and then snapped two pictures from where he stood. The dazzling flashes of light illuminated half of the space and the shutter sound could probably, he guessed, be heard from the first floor. He knew he had to move fast…just in case.

As he took another photo, he heard the front door close, but knew that was impossible since he hadn't seen anyone. Shrugging, he took a few more pictures at different angles, and then made his way upstairs.

Scarcely over an hour and a half later, though Colin Creevey was tired and couldn't help but yawn constantly, he didn't feel like sleeping, at least not yet. So, yet again, he was out after curfew, amongst the slumbering portraits to capture the gloomy, deserted corridors.

In the darkness, something small skittered by, its uncut fingernails tapping quickly against the marble. Creevey turned to glance at what was moving near him and saw a large, brown rat with an apparent missing finger.

Creevey, creeped out by the creature as he was not a fan of rats or anything of the sort, drew his wand and shouted with a slightly shaky voice, "I_Petrificus Totalus!_/I" He bent down to see the immobile rat and poked it with the tip of his wand, wanting to make sure it truly was frozen. Teeth clenched, he picked up the long, pink tail with his index finger and thumb, and decided to put it at the top of the stairs that led to the Dungeons.

_Boy would Fred and George be proud_, Creevey thought, _I'll have to tell them as soon as I get back upstairs!_ He half-hoped Harry Potter wouldn't see it because he didn't want to frighten Potter, though there was no way the Boy Who Lived could be scared by a simple rat. But the other half of him wished he would see it for upsetting the Weasley's and Hermione Granger. He dropped the rat, chuckling slightly, and took a picture as proof, before running back upstairs, checking at every corner to make sure no teachers were around.

* * *

* * *

The Black Lake seemed so serene with its barely stirring ripples and the nearly flawless reflection of the full, white moon. Harry took off his Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it into his pocket, feeling stifled and hot by the fabric. He sat down at the bank of the water, knees bent, arms wrapped around his legs, to stare out as he tried to suppress his worry and anticipation of what might or might not happen in the next hour.

Harry couldn't miss his chance to catch Pettigrew. He had chosen this spot at the lake purposely because if he stood up, he could see part of the Womping Willow and the hill where they had backed away from the werewolf-transformed Lupin. It wasn't a far run to get to the giant, aggressive tree.

As a breeze ruffled his Invisibility Cloak, he thought of Sirius Black, the best friend of his father and now a friend of his. He couldn't let the man be imprisoned once again in Azkaban. He had to do everything in his power to prevent Fudge from shackling Sirius.

He knew Sirius was in the Shrieking Shack this very moment with hopes of being a free man. Well, Harry would see to that…even if he had to be seen to do it.

Although he didn't know much about Sirius and had, only a few hours ago, loathed him with all his will, Harry couldn't help but feel he had now gained a great friend. He felt Sirius was someone who would be there for him, someone who would protect him, someone who he could talk to when he needed to, and Harry would do exactly the same for him.

How could he not when Sirius had escaped from Azkaban prison and had been on the run to defend him from the rat Pettigrew? Now, Harry just hoped he could look after Sirius the way he had done for him.

A small part of him also didn't want to disappoint Dumbledore, even though he had disobeyed his rules numerous times before. Most of him didn't want to be the young adult he had seen in the Mirror of Erised, with his penetrating gaze and commanding air, but a minute portion of him sought it and liked the idea of being that. He didn't want to be conflicted and would give anything not to be, but, regrettably, he was and he knew it. And he had a deep down feeling that Dumbledore knew it as well.

Harry sighed, taking off his glasses to rub them clean, and then fell back against the grass, feeling some of the pointer blades against the back of his head. The midnight blue sky was riddled with dazzling stars, and he wondered what would happen beneath them soon, wondered whether luck would go his way or not.

Unfortunately, luck didn't seem to be on his side lately. If Snape had just minded his own business and decided not to follow Lupin then he wouldn't be in this mess. Snape had a nasty habit of keeping an attentive eye on him and, so it seemed, anyone he befriended. Why couldn't he keep his big, greasy nose out of others people's affairs? Why couldn't he go ruin someone else's life?

In the distance, there was a loud growl and Harry shot up to a standing position in a matter of seconds, eyes wide as he craned his neck to see above the hill. Standing there, quite clearly in the moonlight, was the newly transformed werewolf. He was breathing heavily. Harry could just make out Snape's head, with the blue-white moonlight shining off his dark hair, against the darkness.

Harry didn't realize he was still standing there, watching the scene unfold, until he heard Snape shout, "Run, Potter!" Suddenly, he realized that he wasn't wearing his Cloak and Snape or himself might see him. In his haste to be covered by the shadows, he left his Cloak in his pocket, and moved to the nearby Forbidden Forest, standing at the edge of it. He could still see the group at the top of the hill – and watched intently as Lupin swiped at Snape, nearly tearing his face.

Doing the only thing he could think of at the last minute, Harry put his hands around his mouth to help magnify the sound of a howl. He tried his best to copy the sound of the werewolf and howled once again, hoping it would get Lupin away from Snape and ultimately himself and Sirius.

Then he realized that he already knew it had worked. He had heard a howling come from nearby the forest when he had been at the top of the hill with the bound Sirius. He already knew that Lupin would leave them be and go—

—towards him! He hadn't thought of that.

The massive, thick-haired creature leaped down the hill in only a few jumps toward him, his yellow eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Harry wanted to scream out at the idea of being pummeled by a werewolf, but the sound caught, painfully, in his throat, and the only thing he could do was run. He darted forward as fast as his legs could possibly take him, careful not to get his feet caught over vines and roots.

His breathing quickened and sweat appeared on his forehead and at the back of his neck, as he continued running. After nearly two minutes of dodging trees and zigzagging, Harry managed to look behind him to see that Lupin had gotten caught between the small crevice of two thick trees beside each other, which he had gone through. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he transformed into a black wolf, and scampered towards the edge of the forest and towards the Womping Willow.

In the distance, he could make out the forms of Snape, Sirius, and himself walking up the front steps of Hogwarts. Harry changed form, becoming human again, and entered the Womping Willow, after having prodded the knot. He moved closer towards the dusty room in which he had learned a tremendous amount about his past and the past of his parents. Guts had been spilled, information divulged, a man perceived as a friend, another revealed as a betrayer, and viewpoints had been altered.

Harry hoped Pettigrew was still bound in the Shrieking Shack. It would be so much easier to bring him to the castle if he were still unconscious from Sirius' Stunning Spell, but he doubted if the effects had lasted that long. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest. This would be the first time facing his parents' betrayer alone. He was fuming and would love to get his hands around Pettigrew's fat neck, but he knew that there was no time for his anger to take control. Right now, he needed to get Peter Pettigrew to Hogwarts, where the Minister of Magic and Dumbledore would see to his imprisonment in Azkaban.

Harry took his wand from his pocket, brandishing it in front of him, steadily. The room was nearly pitch-black, but in the darkness, he could hear mumbling and someone struggling against tight ropes. He lit his wand, pointing it into the room from the doorway, and bent down to see under the bed. Peter Pettigrew turned towards him, thick rope cutting into his cheeks as it gagged him, and his eyes widened at whom he saw.

Harry couldn't help but smirk.

**

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**

Preview of Chapter 39—**The Tides of Time:**

Harry finds Peter Pettigrew still bound in the Shrieking Shack and tries to bring him to the castle, but influential words and a livid werewolf get in the way…


	39. The Tides of Time

"Love is whatever you can still betray. Betrayal can only happen if you love."

-John LeCarre

**39**

**The Tides of Time**

The room was nearly pitch-black, but in the darkness, he could hear mumbling and someone struggling against tight ropes. He lit his wand, pointing it into the room from the doorway, and bent down to see under the bed. Peter Pettigrew turned towards him, thick rope cutting into his cheeks as it gagged him, and his eyes widened at whom he saw.

Harry couldn't help but smirk.

He had Pettigrew now.

Making his way around the bed, Harry imagined seeing the mousy man behind bars, his chubby body covered in black and white-striped prison attire, as he grabbed the thick bars, knowing he would never be released. There was no way he was going to Stun Pettigrew, like Dumbledore had wanted. Harry needed Pettigrew to know it was he who had brought him to the castle, and not some random Hit Wizard.

As he stood above Pettigrew, the man began to whimper, probably thinking Harry was going to harm him, and there was no doubt in Harry's mind that he wanted nothing more than to throttle him. However, he first took Creevey's camera from his pocket and snapped a picture of Pettigrew still on the ground, making sure he got a clear picture of his face in case he somehow managed to escape. After stowing away the camera, he reached down to the ropes around the man's chest and grabbed them tightly. With much difficulty, he pulled Pettigrew up to his feet.

For good measure and because he simply couldn't leave the room without causing the man at least some physical pain, he switched his wand to his left hand and punched Pettigrew squarely in the mouth. The man groaned in pain, closing his eyes momentarily. Part of the rope in his mouth was slowly turning a dark burgundy color, but Harry couldn't care less.

Harry pointed his wand at the rope at Pettigrew's ankles, and exclaimed, "_Diffindo!_, so he would be able to walk, if only barely. He then directed his wand at Pettigrew's heart and said, "Don't even think about transforming or running. I'm not afraid to kill you."

They left the room, moving slowly towards the opening in the Womping Willow, though Harry wanted to go as fast as possible so as to help Sirius. Pettigrew waddled reluctantly in front of Harry, whose wand was pressed into the man's back. He was also holding onto some of the thick rope at Pettigrew's back to make sure he couldn't go far. As they curved around a bend in the earthy tunnel, Pettigrew began to mumble against the rope. He tried looking over his shoulder, but Harry pressed his wand against his back, and the man turned back around. But the mumbling remained and continued on for a full minute.

"What?!" Harry exclaimed. He shoved Pettigrew around and pulled the rope from his mouth. "What can you possibly have to say?!"

"You don't have to bring me to Dumbledore, Harry," Pettigrew muttered. His bottom lip was stained with blood. "I've heard things while being at Hogwarts; heard people's conversations, seen people's actions. I know what happened between you and the Dark Lord, Harry, in your first year. I remember what you told me as Scabbers earlier this year in that weird room. You know, it's so much easier to get around the castle when you're half a foot long."

"Keep _walking_, Pettigrew," Harry ordered, shoving him forward. Pettigrew tripped slightly, but caught himself. He looked over his shoulder at Harry, smirking.

"Do you remember what the Dark Lord said to you, Harry? Do you remember what he promised you he could make happen?" Pettigrew drawled slowly, his words lingering thickly in the air. Harry's mouth went dry, his palms started to sweat. It was getting harder to hold his wand tightly. Pettigrew must have seen Harry's hesitancy – he saw the weakness and used it. He kept talking. "He can make a Slytherin like you so _powerful_. The Dark Lord saw your ardent ambition; he saw your desire, your _thirst_. He can quench it, Harry, if only you let him. He can promise you things Dumbledore can only _dream of_."

They pressed through the hole in the Womping Willow's trunk, moving hastily to avoid being hit by the tree's hazardous branches. Under the bright moonlight, they proceeded towards the castle. Harry rubbed his sweaty palms on the fabric of his robes. But Pettigrew hadn't finished. His squeaky voice turned into a lull. Harry knew what he was doing. Pettigrew was trying to get him to see what his future – a potential imminent future with Voldemort – could be if he listened to him. Harry knew he shouldn't think about it, he should block it from his mind, block Pettigrew's words. But he couldn't. He couldn't help but listen. Harry wasn't immune to influence.

"The Dark Lord saw such compelling qualities then, imagine what he would see in you now, Harry, after a few years of growth and advancement. He may be even more willing to guide you." Pettigrew continued, awakening old but familiar feelings in Harry. "The Wizarding World knows the Dark Lord has powers outside Dumbledore's limitations; he knows details about magic beyond even Dumbledore's knowledge. He will help you be the person you've always dreamed of becoming. He will train you with the information he has collected over the years, and he will see that you get to the top of his ranks. Think about it, Harry.

"Do you want to be just another wizard, or do you want to have power beyond your wildest dreams? The Dark Lord can give you all you desire…_and much more_."

Power beyond his wildest dreams. Conversations with Draco in their first year sprung into Harry's head; a vision of himself – longer hair, bright green eyes, air of superiority – in the Mirror of Erised stood out, floating in his mind's eye as if it were in front of him. He did want all that Pettigrew had said…and more. But an image of Dumbledore, his sparking blue eyes boring into him, flashed before him. Harry wanted to be the person Dumbledore wanted him to be, but was that who he wanted to be?

Harry realized that Pettigrew probably knew or could find out where Voldemort was hiding. If Pettigrew escaped, he would surely help him return to full power. And with Voldemort back, the chances of the promise he made to Harry coming true would be extremely high. The likelihood of Harry becoming an influential and remarkable wizard would be immense.

Hogwarts castle was close now. The front steps were only thirty feet away. Harry had to make a decision: Stun Pettigrew and leave him for the Minister to find or—

A deafening howling was emanating near Harry's right. He and Pettigrew turned to see the large, hairy figure of a werewolf. Its chest was heaving and it snapped its jaw, ready to take a bite. Lupin took a few steps forward, his dark eyes locked on Harry. A low growl sounded from his throat, and then he leaped forward.

Pettigrew squealed in shock and terror, and managed to pry himself from Harry's grip. Eyes wide, Harry took a few quick steps backwards as he raised his wand. His mind raced for a usable spell, something that would at least keep the werewolf at bay for a few moments. "_Obscuro!_" A black blindfold shot from his wand and wrapped itself around Lupin's eyes. As the werewolf struggled, Harry looked for Pettigrew, fearful that he had transformed and escaped, but the man, seeming to have tripped in his haste to get away, was now lying on the ground, struggling against the ropes.

Lupin growled as he clawed at the blindfold. In a matter of seconds, he had ripped the cloth to shreds and it fell, lazily, to the ground. Harry turned just in time to see the werewolf leap at him once again. Its sharp nails dug into Harry's chest, as it pushed him to the ground. The werewolf swiped at his face, making a gash that went from below Harry's left eye to across his lips. Harry cried out momentarily, feeling the sting of the air against his open skin.

He managed to get his wand, which had luckily stayed in his grasp, pointing at Lupin's chest and yelled, "_Expelliarmus!"_ The large werewolf was thrown off of him, landing only a foot or two away. Harry sat up quickly, not having enough time to stand, and pointed his wand at the ground near the werewolf's feet. "Sorry, Lupin," Harry muttered. "_Incendio!_" A blaze of fire burst from the tip of his wand, scorching the ground as he created a long line of flames between himself and Lupin. The werewolf howled as the flames licked his fur.

Harry scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest and his breathing irregular. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Pettigrew on the ground, a reflection of the fire in his eyes. "Let's get away from here before—!"

The werewolf jumped through the flames, sizzling some of the hairs on his legs and chest, but it didn't seem to care. Harry couldn't think of any other spells that could repel or keep the creature away. He was running out of options and he was running out of time. He needed to get to Sirius.

Doing the only other option he could think of, Harry decided to run. As he took a few steps back from the heaving werewolf, he knew he could also release Pettigrew. But how could he do it without the man actually knowing he had done it on purpose? He wasn't sure he wanted anyone to know that the Mirror of Erised had been correct.

Pettigrew's struggling form was only a foot behind him. Harry kept his eyes on Lupin, knowing exactly what he was going to do: as he took another step back, his foot hit something hard and before he could catch his balance he was falling backwards over a rounded figure. He heard Pettigrew have the air knocked out of him as Harry fell atop his pudgy middle. He leaned over slightly, wand in hand, and whispered, "_Diffindo!_" The rope at Pettigrew's hands split in half, allowing him to take the rest of them off.

Harry and Pettigrew stood up, backing away in the process as the werewolf, growling, drew ever closer. Just as the werewolf leaped again, Harry turned to Pettigrew, who had turned to look at him first. Pettigrew winked, a sly smile on his face. Suddenly, his form crumbled, becoming a tawny rat, and the next instant, the small creature had disappeared among the grass. Harry was now alone to fend for himself against a hungry werewolf.

He ran from the spot and into the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. He zigzagged through the thin trees like he had done before, but it didn't seem to be working. Lupin was gaining on him, and he didn't have to turn his head to know that – he could clearly hear the ground crunching beneath the werewolf's feet behind him.

After just two minutes, Harry's heart was pounding; his chest and exceptionally dry throat hurt as the warm air went in and out rapidly, his legs ached in pain as he pushed himself further to go on. He wasn't sure how much further, how much faster he could run. The muscles in his legs were getting hard and he would soon have to stop. Harry looked over his shoulder, daringly, and saw Lupin only a few feet behind him. He didn't seem tired at all. On the contrary, the creature seemed enthralled by the chase, and that only seemed to make Harry more exhausted.

While looking behind, he hadn't seen the thick root sticking up from the ground. His left foot caught it, sending him flying forward, and though he would have yelled out in surprise, his throat was too dry. As he fell, a soft velvety fabric loosened from his pocket, falling beside him. Harry grabbed the Invisibility Cloak, angry at his own stupidity for not thinking of wearing it while being chased by a ravenous werewolf, and pulled it over himself.

The werewolf sped to a halt, growling in the night. Harry stood up slowly, not wanting the creature to hear him. But as the werewolf started sniffing the air, he realized that Lupin would be able to smell him. Almost all at once, he ducked behind a fairly thin tree, tucked the Cloak in his pocket, transformed into a black wolf, and dashed out of the forest towards the looming castle.

As Harry ran forward, his heart pounding, though now for an entirely different reason, he was fairly certain he could make out yellow light spilling from the open front doors of Hogwarts. In a swift movement, he transformed into a human form and managed to pull his Cloak over him again.

_No!_ Harry thought, _he can't be…Sirius can't be coming out already!_

Harry stopped at the foot of the steps to watch in horror as Sirius, heavily shackled at the wrists and ankles and black hair swinging solemnly in front of his face, shuffled down the steps. He was escorted by two Hit Wizards, of which there were two more at either side and two more behind him. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, his green bowler hat atop his head, looked supremely smug.

As his father's best friend strode in front of him, Harry picked up the bottom of his Invisibility Cloak and pointed his wand at the shackles at Sirius' ankles. "_Diffindo!_" he whispered in distress. It did nothing, but make an almost inaudible _zing_ sound. The closest Hit Wizard glanced around, but didn't seem to make anything of it and looked forward again. Harry tried again but to no avail. It was useless, he couldn't help Sirius now.

Harry groaned in exasperation and desperation as he watched the group leave the Hogwarts grounds. He should have been there. He should have been able to help Sirius. How could he have listened to Pettigrew for so long? He should have come straight to Sirius to help him escape. That's exactly what Sirius would have done for him. He felt like he had not only let Sirius down, but had also betrayed his trust. And it was true that he had – for while Sirius had been trapped in a tower, he had been listening intently to a man who had betrayed him, intentionally put him in prison, and who had helped kill Harry's parents. He must be mad, completely insane! How could he have helped the wrong man?!

As Harry checked his watch, realizing that he only had three minutes to get to Dumbledore's office, he knew he should have tried to do more to help Sirius out of those shackles. He should have used more spells, even though they all seemed to have evaded him in that single disparaging moment. Or he should have at least attempted to let Sirius know he was there, that he cared, that he had…tried.

However, he had been almost paralyzed by his realization of what he hadn't done to save Sirius, of what he _had_ done to assist Pettigrew, and of the idea that he was the single worst person on planet Earth.

Harry ran up the steps into the castle, making his way up to the seventh floor. The weight of his anger, directed at himself, was so immense that his face and hands felt hot. He struggled with the idea of using the Time-Turner again to do what he had set out to, but almost too quickly he was taking off his Cloak to meet Dumbledore, who was standing in the doorway of his office.

Dumbledore beckoned him forward with a slight nod of his head. Harry walked into the room, remaining standing and remaining silent as Dumbledore closed the door and took his seat. But Harry couldn't stand it any longer, and burst into speech.

"_Professor, I cou—I couldn't save Sirius! I was busy with Pettigrew, and then Lupin came as a werewolf, and he got away, and by the time I got the castle, Sirius was already shackled, and…! And, you have to let me go back again! Please, Professor!"_

"Harry, you cannot go back for a second time," said Dumbledore. He removed his glasses silently, putting it gently upon the table. "It seems this was meant to happen if Sirius was captured twice."

Harry bowed his head at his headmaster's words. He stared at the floor without really seeing it.

"It wasn't your fault, Harry."

"Yes, it was!" Harry exclaimed, looking at Dumbledore. "I didn't do all that I could to help him! I was with Pettigrew instead! And Pettigrew still got away."

"It's unfortunate that Pettigrew slipped through your fingers, Harry. This I am truly upset about, but there's nothing we can do now." Dumbledore motioned for Harry to take a seat, which he did slowly and almost reluctantly. "You won't believe me, but I think you did a good job."

"How can you say that when I failed to do what you said?"

"You may not have saved Sirius or captured Pettigrew, but I know you realized what's important to you. I know that if you could do this again, and you won't be, but if you could, you would run straight to Sirius. That's more than apparent from your little outburst a minute ago."

Harry merely nodded as he stared at on odd, silver object on Dumbledore's desk. He knew he hadn't done a good job, though Dumbledore was right about him learning what's most important. Seeing Sirius in shackles straightened his priorities. If only he had seen that first then he never would have released Pettigrew.

However, as he thought about Pettigrew's words, he grew less sure of his priorities, and merely thought of how he had failed Sirius in the end. If there was anything he could do to get Sirius out of Azkaban, he would do it. Harry would risk his own life for Sirius'.

**

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**

Preview of Chapter 40**—Sly Confessions:**

Draco and Blaise find out about what happened the night Sirius was captured; Harry writes a letter to Sirius, hoping for one back, and Draco confesses.


	40. Sly Confessions

"For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation."

-Bible

**40**

**Sly Confessions**

Perhaps it was a good thing that Draco and Blaise knew nothing. It saved Harry having to tell them what had happened, though they had still asked where he had been that night. However, keeping this to himself was wearing him down. He felt someone should know that he had been a coward; that he hadn't saved a man that was becoming a great friend to him. He wanted someone to know, so he wouldn't have to hold all the weight of his misgivings.

But he told no one. He mentioned not a single word of the night he traveled into the past. He had even stashed the camera in his trunk for safe-keeping, unsure whether he should release the picture to the public. He knew eventually he would have to tell Draco and Blaise that Sirius Black was not a murderer, but a savior, a trusted friend. Eventually, they would wonder why he was upset that Sirius was in Azkaban prison.

The next morning, everyone in the Wizarding World knew that Sirius Black had been brought to Azkaban by Fudge and his men, though it gave tribute to Severus Snape for capturing the notorious murderer while he was at Hogwarts.

Hearing the cheers and applause in the Great Hall was overwhelming. He had thrown down Blaise's _Daily Prophet_ and walked out of the room. As he pushed open one of the Great Hall doors, the face that had stared back at him from the other side of the doorway was greasy, hook-nosed, and smirking. Harry saw that the newspaper was wedged under his arm. He glared at Snape, and then walked quickly from the room, not daring to look back.

Harry hadn't stopped until he was standing in front of the common room entrance, breathing unevenly. Two sets of footsteps sounded and he knew people were coming down the stairs, but he didn't care to look to see whom it was. He just pressed his back against the cold wall opposite the Slytherin common room.

Reading the large headline, seeing Sirius' picture on the front page, had made it officially real. He knew it hadn't been a nightmare, it had actually happened…and it had been his fault.

"Harry, what the hell is wrong with you?! The man that had been trying to kill you is now in prison!" Draco had exclaimed, stepping towards him with Blaise beside him.

Harry hadn't been sure of how he would tell his friends. He hadn't even been sure they would understand, but he had tried.

"Sirius hasn't been trying to kill me," Harry said to his feet. He could feel his friends' stares. "I didn't find out until about a week ago, but I know it's true. The night we went outside, Draco, after you were struck unconscious by that large dog, I followed it to the Shrieking Shack. It wasn't an animal; it was Sirius Black. I—I was so ready to kill him, I thought at one point that I was going to do it, but Lupin came in since he had seen me from the castle, and stopped me. It's gets a lot more complicated after that, believe me, but Sirius explained what had really happened that night thirteen years ago.

"It had been Pettigrew, everything had been him, not Sirius. You see, my parents had been using a Secret Keeper, someone that would keep the place they're staying a secret and no one else would be able to find them unless that person told someone else. Everyone thought that the person had been Sirius, but at the last moment, he switched with Pettigrew—"

"Why? Why'd he switch with Pettigrew?" Blaise had asked.

"Sirius said it was because he thought no one would ever think it was Pettigrew. If you saw him, you'd understand, but anyway, since Pettigrew held the secret, he could give it to anyone he wanted, and he told Voldemort. So when Sirius and Pettigrew met on the street in the middle of the night in front of all those Muggles, it had been Sirius tracking down Pettigrew, not the other way around as everyone thinks.

"Pettigrew cut off his finger when Sirius wasn't looking and blew up the street to make it look like Sirius had done it. He even yelled at Sirius to frame him further and then transformed into a rat. He's an Animagus and he's been hiding in the castle for years now as someone's pet."

Harry finally looked up at his two best friends. Blaise's eyes were wide with anticipation and shock. Draco was staring at the floor, though seemed to be listening intently.

"Look, you don't have to believe me, but its true. I even captured the rat and took it to Sirius. He proved it. The rat changed into Pettigrew. I saw him with my own eyes. And now Pettigrew is out there somewhere and Sirius is in prison _again_. That's why I'm angry…because I can't do a bloody damn thing about it."

"Whoa, I didn't realize, Harry. You should've told us earlier. You should have said something about all this," Blaise had remarked. "I can tell that you're not lying, Harry. You don't act this way about just anything, so it's got to be serious. Wow, Black is innocent, never would've thought. So, are—are you okay…about all this?"

"Not really. I tried to prevent him from being captured, but I couldn't stop it. It's my fault."

"You couldn't've stopped a whole fleet of Hit Wizards from bringing him to Azkaban, Harry."

"I should have tried harder to stop Snape from capturing him. He was the one that brought Sirius to the castle. If only I had done something, anything."

Blaise nodded and then turned to his left to look at Draco. "Draco, you're very quiet. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I'm waiting for this to sink in, I guess."

"Believe me, a week ago, I never would've thought this was true," Harry had said.

Now, he was sitting, alone, in the warm sun at the bank of the Black Lake, thinking the conversation over, as groups of friends talked, laughed, and played games on the grass of Hogwarts. Lying in front of him was an empty piece of parchment, a still unused quill, and an unopened ink bottle.

Harry wanted to write something to Sirius, but didn't know what. What should he say to the man he unintentionally sent to prison? He dearly wished the words would just come to him, but he could think of nothing to write. Besides, would he even get it? Did they let prisoners get letters from the outside world?

_S,_

_I believe you. I'm sorry I wasn't quick enough to save you. I tried._

_H._

Looking over the letter, he realized there was something else he wanted to say.

_P.S.—If I didn't have such an aversion to Dementors, or they to I, then I would visit you everyday._

Harry was going to mention something about Pettigrew, but that betrayer had no place on his first letter to his godfather. He folded the parchment and wrote i_Sirius Black_/i on the outside. With the letter in his grip, he stared out at the glistening Black Lake for a moment, knowing that sending this letter would mean that everything was changed. He trusted and believed in Sirius Black.

------

After a few days of waiting anxiously, hoping that Sirius would get the letter, a response arrived with the other students' post while he was eating breakfast. Harry dropped his fork with a clang when he saw that Hedwig had a note tied to her leg. Draco and Blaise turned to look at him. He untied the twine, gave Hedwig a piece of toast, and then let her fly off.

Harry got up from his seat after placing the note in his robe pocket. "Where are you going? We have class soon," Blaise said. Draco stared at him, unspeaking.

"I'll meet you there," Harry replied as he started walking away. "I have to do something first."

When he was in the empty common room, he unfolded the small piece of parchment and saw Sirius' smooth handwriting. A feeling of relief swept over him. He couldn't help smile and he relaxed in posture. Knowing that he could still contact Sirius, despite his ill-fated circumstances of Azkaban imprisonment, made Harry feel much better. Sirius was always a letter away.

_H,_

_Thank you. You did save me. I may be locked up, but knowing that you believe me makes this worth while. Remus is a good friend to have. He will help you when I can't. I encountered two Animagi on the Hogwarts grounds that I didn't know, so keep an eye out. I will see you soon; don't waste your time coming to see me here. I don't know how long I can stay in this place, knowing the unjustice of it and knowing that Peter is still out there. It's almost the same as before, except know there's more security and I have you on my side. Stay safe._

_Your godfather,_

_S._

Harry smiled a sad smile as he read the letter over. He knew Sirius was just being kind and a good godfather by saying that he had saved him, but it was nice to hear nonetheless. It relieved some of the pain he was feeling on his shoulders. Lupin was a good person and friend, and Harry looked forward to getting to know him more.

He wondered what Sirius meant by, _I don't know how long I can stay in this place_. Surely he couldn't escape again, not with more security. But if it was the last thing he did, Harry would get Sirius out of there. He would not see Sirius rot in there.

_Stay safe._ Those dreaded words that people had constantly told him the entire year. Somehow hearing them again from Sirius was both ironic and comforting.

How could a simple letter make him both comforted and upset? He sat down in a nearby chair, letting the letter rest on the table in front of him. He wished Sirius was here now, but then he remembered what Sirius wrote – _Remus is a good friend to have. He will help you when I can't_.

Harry grabbed the parchment and got up from his seat, hoping he had time to talk to Lupin before classes started. As he was about touch the stone wall, it began moving aside. Standing at the entrance was Draco, but his skin was paler than usual and his hair wasn't slicked back.

"Draco. What's wrong?" Harry asked. His friend took a few steps forward, so he backed into the common room to let him through. Draco stopped walking in the middle of the room, his back to Harry.

"After you told me and Blaise about Pettigrew, I did a lot of thinking," Draco explained slowly, choosing his words. "I don't know what to think or do anymore. Being your friend has drastically changed how I see things, but being my father's son I've been taught certain things I wish I had never learned, and being his son has its commitments."

"What are you—?"

"Let me finish." Draco took a deep breath and then turned around to face Harry. His eyes were red like he hadn't slept in days. He wouldn't meet Harry's gaze. "I knew Sirius Black wasn't a member of You-Know-Who's inner circle, like the newspapers said. And I knew Peter Pettigrew wasn't a friend to you or your family. I never said anything when I should have told you because of my father. There are certain things I keep to myself because it's what being a Malfoy is. I know you don't understand and I'm not asking you to.

"But when you told me that you had figured it out, that Black was on your side and Pettigrew was the foe, I knew I had to tell you. I've been a bad friend by not saying anything. If we were reversed, I know you would have told me ages ago. I don't want to be a bad friend anymore, Harry. Just know that you're my best friend and I would never intentionally hurt you."

"I know, Draco. I know you wouldn't."

"Are you angry? You have a right to be."

"I—I'm a bit in shock. I didn't know you knew any of that. How _did_ you know all of that?

"Being in Malfoy Manor, you tend to overhear things, and I've overheard numerous things I shouldn't have."/p

Harry paused for a moment. "But _why_ didn't you tell me any of this? I understand about being your father's son. Knowing your father, I understand well. But you could have said something instead of letting me think that Sirius was after me this whole year."

"But I didn't have all the answers or the details you would've wanted if I had told you. I didn't know about the Secret Keeper thing or that Pettigrew had caught off his own finger," Draco explained. "Even if I had told you, it wouldn't have given you the justification you would've needed."

Harry nodded. "You're right; it wouldn't have."

"So are we good?" Draco asked, extending his hand for a shake.

"Yeah, we're good." Harry used his right hand to shake his friend's. He put his left hand on Draco's shoulder. "Next time you know something you think I should know, just tell me."

"Hopefully there won't be a next time."

Harry laughed. "Good point."

_I certainly hope there isn't a next time too_/i, Harry thought.

------

With the air growing warmer and the days growing longer everyday, all Harry wanted to do was be outside, but with the finals coming up he had to be inside studying. A stack of books adorned his bedside table every evening after studying for hours with Draco and Blaise. He knew with certainty that he would do exceedingly well on all of his exams, but with extra hours of going through notes definitely helped to refresh his memory and guarantee a good grade.

Harry had studied for three hours so far for Transfiguration and Charms, both of which were tomorrow, but now that the words were starting to jumble and blur, he felt it was time to take a break and rest his head.

"I need to lie down for a few minutes. I'll be back in fifteen-twenty minutes," he told Draco and Blaise, who yawned while he nodded.

As Harry trudged down the stairs toward the dormitory, an older girl touched the wall as she was coming up, and it reminded him of the tunnels hidden by the stones. He stopped and knelt down, pretending to tie his shoe as she left the stairway. Wanting to enter the tunnels so out of the blue made him more alert; he could always lie down later.

Harry went down a few more steps and then pressed the correct stone. He watched them fly away to reveal the dark, stone-covered passageway, and then took out his wand and whispered, "_Lumos!_" He proceeded forward for a while, as if he were going to the cobwebbed room. At some point, he passed the tunnel that branched off to the right, which lead to the Restricted Section, but passed it without much thought. However, when a tunnel to the left appeared, a passageway he had never gone down before, he couldn't help but wonder what was at the end. Was it another empty room that would transport him somewhere interesting? Or was it just plain empty?

He decided to investigate. The tunnel went straight for a few minutes, and then turned so sharply to the left that Harry nearly bumped into the wall. After some time, there was a sharp turn to the right and as he kept walking, the ground started to rise. When it was almost too much too walk straight, it began to level off. He continued for a while and he checked his watch to see that he had been going in a straight line for nearly ten minutes.

Just when he thought of turning back and was regretting not having his Conglomerate Stone on his person, Harry's wand light fell upon something substantial, instead of just chasing away the darkness. His bright white-blue light danced lightly over a dark-wooden door with an elegant engraving…

**

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**

Preview of Chapter 41**—I Won't Forget About You:**

Harry finds the office of a person well known to all those at Hogwarts; the school finds out that Lupin has been keeping a secret, and Harry has a deep conversation with Lupin before he leaves.


	41. I Won’t Forget About You

"True friends are the ones who never leave your heart, even if they leave your life for awhile. Even after years apart, you pick up with them right where you left off, and even if they die they're never dead in your heart."

-Anonymous

**41**

**I Won't Forget About You**

Harry's bright white-blue light danced lightly over a dark, almost black-polished door. A large, elegantly-curled serpent was engraved in the upper center of its wood. The first thing he thought, still edging closer, was that such a hidden place would most likely need a password to enter, like the common rooms. But when he was less than a foot away, he saw that the space between the door and its frame was being held slightly ajar by a fist-sized stone.

Leaving the stone in its place, Harry pushed open the door to reveal a muggy-smelling, dust-infested, and low-ceilinged office. _Who in their right mind would have an office in the recesses of the school?_ he thought. As he entered, a small orb hanging from the ceiling started to glow, illuminating the room. He extinguished his wand light and placed it back into his pocket.

Harry saw that the massive mahogany desk with carvings of snakes and meandering vines was the focus of the room since it was so commanding and bold in its size. Its contents, a few of which were a few blank pieces of parchment, a dried-up bottle of ink, and a candle lamp, had a thick, almost greasy covering on them. Behind the desk, a bookshelf and the large volumes on it were coated in a substantial layer of dust.

To the left was a cabinet with glass doors that were thick with sticky muck. Harry opened one of the cabinet doors to see golden and silver objects that he had never seen before and to which their purpose was a mystery. A set of golden drinking cups, a tarnished tiara, and a long, emerald quill are the only objects can identify. He closed the glass door and turned back to the desk.

The two chairs in front of the desk were so sticky with grime that the green color of the cushion looked faded. Oddly enough, as Harry moved to stand behind the desk, he saw that the main chair, with its high back and strong armrests, was unsoiled, as was a small patch of desk directly in front of the seat. Had someone been here recently? Was that the person who had wedged the stone at the door? Who else could have found this place? Who else could have known about the tunnels from the dormitory stairs? Or had they come in another way?

As he walked away from desk, something caught his eye. It was a wooden plaque with a name carved gracefully into it.

_Salazar Slytherin_

Although Harry's eyebrows lifted at the name, he understood the reasoning for the lair's chosen place. He had heard the tale about Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor – the fight that created the lasting feud between the two prominent Houses – so it made sense that Slytherin would want to keep his private office in a secluded place not easily reachable by anyone. The Chamber of Secrets had certainly stayed hidden for hundreds of years before Tom Riddle had uncovered it.

But it was merely an office. What good did it do to hide it from the other occupants of the castle? Of course, Harry would never know because Salazar Slytherin had lived over a thousand years ago.

Moving away from the desk, Harry glanced at the painting of a deep red armchair hanging on the wall. The person whose portrait it was seemed to be missing. Next to the frame was a shelf of empty phials. They were not out of the ordinary, nor particularly interesting in any way, but he could clearly make out that one of the phials – the roundest one that was second to the left – wasn't as grimy as the others. He tried picking it up, but it wouldn't budge. Maybe it was just stuck from dirt and time. But when he grabbed the one next to it, it came away easily.

Harry tried pulling it forwards and backwards like a leaver, but nothing happened. Perhaps it was just his imagination. No one else would find this significant, he knew. But it grew on his mind like mold.

The glass stopper was the least disturbed by dust, so he reached up and lifted it from the phial. The stopper immediately pulled itself back into the phial, which began to turn clockwise on the shelf, making the sound of the mechanisms of a clock turning and shifting.

A large, rectangular outline formed in the wall, the shelf inside. The bottom of the outline was two feet above Harry's shoes. He pushed the section of the wall forward and it swung open. Cautiously, he peered out, as if looking out a window, to find that he was in an almost-always vacant corridor on the second floor, not far from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He pulled himself up, placing his knees on the corridor floor, and then stood.

The painting was nearly door-sized, and the bronze frame was lower than most other paintings, the bottom reaching floor-level. This portrait was one he had never seen before. A warm-eyed old man, deep crevices marking his face, was sitting on a worn chair with a lamp on a small side table. The old man smiled and tipped his brown felt messenger hat at him. Harry nodded his head, before jumping back down into Slytherin's lair. He tugged the portrait hole closed, which immediately sealed itself back like it never existed.

Knowing he had spent too much time here already, and that Draco or Blaise might have gone looking for him already, Harry decided it was time to leave. There was no doubt he would be back to examine the contents of the glass-doored cabinet and the large desk, as well as to simply take in the fact that he had found Salazar Slytherin's private office. He doubted many before him had come across it and it gave him tremendous comfort in knowing that.

As he closed the door, Harry made sure to leave the stone in place, for fear of not being able to return.

* * *

Monday morning at breakfast, as Harry tried not to think about the upcoming tests, the post arrived, bringing news that would shock the students in the Great Hall and cause an early disruption.

Blaise, mouth stuffed with scrabbled egg, exclaimed, "_What the hell?!_"

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"The front page says that Professor Lupin is a werewolf. It says that someone in Hogsmeade village witnessed Lupin changing back into human form last weekend. He wasn't sure it was the Professor at first, but when Lupin went to get a drink later, he knew and told the authorities," Blaise explained, eyes still focused on the newspaper. "I can't believe Dumbledore didn't inform us of it."

Harry watched as Draco's eyes widened and his pale face turned a sickly green color. He immediately stood from his seat and turned to glance at Lupin, who was seating eating breakfast at the teacher's table. He then quickly left the room.

"What's wrong with him?" Blaise asked. He set down the paper and looked at Harry, who said, "He doesn't like werewolves."

Slowly more and more students were opening the _Daily Prophet_. Many simply gasped and then began chatting quickly with the people beside them. Only a few more people left the room. Nothing seemed too unusual or out of the ordinary. But it was when one girl screamed that the teachers looked up. Lupin grabbed McGonagall's unopened paper and finally understood. He handed it to Dumbledore, who read the article and then stood.

The students stopped talking, but fear and anxiety was written all over their faces. They all seemed as if they were sitting at the edge of their seats, about to stand or flee. One daring student blurted, "How could you let a werewolf onto Hogwarts grounds?"

"Mr. Doyle, please refrain from making comments or asking questions," the headmaster replied. He glanced around the Great Hall. "It is true that Professor Lupin is a werewolf. However, I gave him the position of Dark Arts teacher knowing full-well that he would be harmless. The past months he has been your instructor, he has been taking the Wolfsbane Potion, which has been concocted for him by Potions Master Snape. It didn't put a stop to his transformations, but it prevented him from being a threat. Other safety measures were also put into effect as a precaution. You were never in any imminent danger, I promise you."

"But now all our parents are going to find out, and Professor Lupin is going to be forced to leave anyway," a Ravenclaw student said.

"Professor Dumbledore, why weren't we informed upon Professor Lupin's initial employment that he was a werewolf? Don't you think it would have helped to alleviate any shock or refusal that our families would have had if they were to hear it in the beginning instead of so suddenly like this?" Granger inquired.

"Excellent questions, Miss Granger, and though it would have been much wiser to tell you all initially, it was not up to me. It was not my secret to tell. If Professor Lupin did not want others to know, I had to respect his decision."

There was a moment of silence. Harry glanced at Lupin's down-turned face. The look on his face was of self-loathing and repulsion. It was clear that he wished he had told the school he was a werewolf before all this had happened.

Someone muttered, just loud enough for all to hear, "Coward." That one word was all Lupin needed. He stood up so quickly, his chair fell back. McGonagall placed a hand on his arm to both calm him and prevent him from doing something he would regret. Without a word, he walked from his seat to the door at the back of the room that Harry had heard led to a backroom.

"If you could all please make your way to your first exam, we may get on with our day," Dumbledore said.

"My first exam if with the werewolf," a Slytherin girl said crudely. "I won't go if he's there."

Dumbledore visibly sighed. "I will have another teacher sit-in for your Dark Arts exams."

As the rest of the student body stood up, Harry knew that he had to talk to Lupin. He didn't want him to leave the school, though it was clear by now that he would soon be forced to either by the parents or by the Ministry. Unfortunately, because of his Charms and Transfiguration exams, Harry wouldn't have time to speak with Lupin until evening, and he decided he would go then.

* * *

Although it was an hour before curfew, the corridors were nearly vacant of students since most of them were studying for the next days exams. Harry had waited until after dinner, from which Lupin was absent, to speak with him. He had wanted to get some studying done before eating, but found he couldn't concentrate with Lupin's imminent dismissal hanging over his head.

He took a deep breath and then knocked on Lupin's office door. "Come in."

Harry shouldn't have been surprised to see that most of Lupin's belongings were already placed in a two still-open suitcases. His desk was bare, save for a few empty pieces of parchment and an open bottle of ink. The windows were closed and only one torch was lit.

"How are doing, Professor?" Harry asked, the worry clear in his voice.

"Not as well as I thought I'd be," replied Lupin. He stopped folding a shabby cloak with holes near the bottom and looked up. "I always pictured the day the school would find out. I would go through different scenarios in my mind ever since I was first accepted to Hogwarts when I was a student. When Professor Dumbledore gave me a job, the same anxieties returned, worse than before, to be honest, but I felt that since I had gotten away with it then, I might be able to get away with it now. Unfortunately, my luck seems to have run out, not that I had much to begin with."

"You're talking as if you got away with committing a crime. Being a werewolf isn't a crime. You should be able to get a job wherever you want without being ridiculed."

Lupin chuckled sadly. "That's a nice thought, but it's not realistic. I know being a werewolf isn't a crime, but it might as well be with how people treat me," he said. "Harry, you saw what my own pupils said to me. Life isn't nice. And people are worse. You, of all people, should already know that."

"I do know," Harry said, glancing quickly at the floor. "Is there any chance that you'll be able to stay?"

"No, there isn't. I'm sorry, Harry. Professor Dumbledore informed me earlier that he's getting piles of letters from parents requesting my resignation of Dark Arts teacher. They are all outraged that there was a werewolf so close to their children. I _have_ to leave."

"But you never did anything to them. You never hurt anyone."

"It's not what I _haven't_ done, it's what I _might_ do."

Harry nodded, understanding. The longer Lupin stayed, the more he became a risk to students and teachers. "I wish this had turned out differently, Professor."

"Me too, Harry," Lupin responded. He grabbed a small pile of folded robes and put them into a suitcase, closed the lid, and snapped the locks in place. He turned to look at Harry, and said, with a hint of a smile, "I'm not longer your professor, please call me Remus."

In different circumstances, Harry would have been pleased to call his father's friend by his first name, but now it just seemed a sad occasion. He did nod, a small smile creeping onto his features. "Do you need help packing?"

"Sure. Grab those books and see if you can cram them into that suitcase over there." Harry took a few small volumes from a side table and tried stuffing them between collared shirt and once-black-now-gray trousers. He heard Remus scribbling something quickly on a piece of parchment. Seeing that the suitcase was full and wouldn't close without some force, Harry tried pushing the lid down to close the metal snaps, but the two parts of the suitcase wouldn't come together.

"Harry, stop, you're going to give yourself a brain aneurysm." Remus took his wand from his pocket and flicked it at the suitcase, which closed and fastened the snaps itself.

_Why didn't I think of that?_ Harry thought as Remus walked over, the slip of parchment between his pale fingers. Up close, with the torch's flame illuminating part of his face, Harry could see puffy bags beneath Remus' kind, but red bloodshot eyes. Remus held out the ripped section of parchment to Harry, who took it slowly.

Written in Remus' cramped but smooth handwriting was a name: _Hilda Thatcher_.

"I'm leaving tonight, Harry. I'll be going…_underground_, let's say, with the only people who accept me. If you want to contact me, but Hedwig can't reach or find me, send a letter to Hilda asking for me. Don't give an explanation or reason; just write down that you need to speak to me. She'll let you know where I am at the moment. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Harry said, not fully understanding what was so secretive about staying with other werewolves. He thought of asking, but thought better of it. He put the slip of parchment into his robe pocket.

"Hilda was the first werewolf I met after the death of your parents. She's not necessarily the kindest person in the world, but she did teach me a few things about the world and give me a place to stay when I needed it. She owns the Green Husky Inn in Hertfordshire," explained Remus, "so she sees a lot of things and knows a lot of people."

"You're just gonna run away like this? Hide yourself from society?" Harry asked, almost angry. "You were the one who taught me to not be afraid of the Dementors, and because of that I learned to not be so afraid of Sirius when I thought he was after me. And now it sounds like your running away."

"I'm not running away, Harry. I just need to get away for a while. I thought I could live in Wizarding society as a normal wizard, but I'm not a normal wizard and these past few years have taught me that I can't live among non-werewolves without repercussions and without suspicion." He spoke quickly but with a certain calm that meant he didn't want to get into an argument. Harry didn't want to either, especially since he wasn't sure when he would get to see Remus again.

Remus took a step forward and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. "I don't want you to think I'm leaving you behind, Harry, because I'm not. Even though I won't be at Hogwarts, I'm only a letter away if you need me. Don't forget that." He gave Harry's shoulders a little squeeze and then he walked back toward his desk. He picked up his suitcases, one in each hand. Harry understood that he was leaving and so he followed his friend and old professor out of the room. Remus placed one of the suitcases on the floor, took his wand from his pocket, and flicked it at the office, which darkened completely inside and then the door shut. He placed his wand back into his robe pocket.

"Promise me you'll write if you're ever in trouble."

"I promise, Profe–Remus," Harry said in a small voice.

Remus extended his right hand and Harry shook it firmly, not wanting to let go. It felt as if Remus had been sentenced to a term in Azkaban, and not Sirius. Remus spoke like a man imprisonment, and even in Azkaban, Sirius wrote like a free man. From the way Remus nodded his head at him, from the way his eyes peered into Harry's, it was clear that they wouldn't see each other for a long time, and it saddened Harry to a point he hadn't felt before. He knew there was nothing he could say to make Remus stay.

The handshake broke. Remus picked up the suitcase once again, and began walking away. Without turning, he said, "I won't forget about you, Harry. I promise."

**A/N:** The next chapter will be the last for this particular story in the series. I felt that it was dragging on a bit. It'll end in the correct fashion, like they all did, so no worries! But I have to admit, and I feel really, really bad about this, but I haven't started the fourth story yet!! I know! It's so bad! I'm usually really good about writing chapters, but I've been so preoccupied with my own work that I've neglected poor Harry! This weekend I'll try writing the first few chapters.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was certainly fun to write! Tell me if you thought anything was weird or uncharacteristic or if you liked it. Have a good weekend!

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Preview of Chapter 42**—Forewarned of the Future:**

After Harry's last exam, he hears a prophecy; Draco tells Harry that something interesting might be returning next year, and the Hogwarts Express departs for the summer.


	42. Forewarned of the Future

"Forewarned, forearmed; to be prepared is half the victory."

-Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

**42**

**Forewarned of the Future**

The remainder of the week sped by as a blur of piles of books and unorganized papers and being asked aggravating questions in exams. Harry could barely concentrate on Tuesday morning's Care of Magical Creatures exam, even with Hagrid eying him suspiciously; he could only think about Remus leaving Hogwarts at dusk without a respectful send-off, as if he were some sort of criminal.

Harry tried focusing as best he could on the rest of his exams, knowing that Remus wouldn't want him to neglect his education because of his departure. He properly made a Confusing Concoction for Potions on Tuesday afternoon; for History of Magic he wrote a long essay on the Medieval Witch Hunts and then identified various plants, both dangerous and not, for Herbology on Wednesday; with McGonagall as the substitute, he did excellently in an obstacle course for Dark Arts, and lastly Harry gazed into an orb for Divination, unsure of what he was supposed to be seeing.

He left the warm, thick-curtained room feeling annoyed that he had to do something as ridiculous as look into a glass orb to "see" his future. Even more annoying was the fact that, halfway back to the common room, he realized he had forgotten his robe, which he had set down on a circular table. Because it didn't fit him quite as well anymore as he would have liked, he would have left it behind, but in one of the pockets was his Conglomerate Stone.

Harry slipped back into the room, not wanting to disturb Professor Trelawney, who he saw was sitting behind her desk, staring intently into an orb. It was when he saw that her eyes were glassy and vacant that he became worried. He rushed over, dropping his robe in the floor as he went.

"_Professor!_" he exclaimed. Thoughts of seeing Professor Parish collapse in the corridor last year pierced his mind like a deep paper cut.

Her eyes were fixated on the orb, her hands placed, palm down, on the desk in front of her, her posture was stiff, her breathing was long and even. Once he was at her side, Trelawney's left hand grabbed Harry's forearm, which made him flinch and he nearly cried out at the sudden movement. Her eyes were still on large, glass ball.

Suddenly, just as Harry was about to ask if she was alright, Trelawney inhaled a large amount of air, as if she was gasping, and then said, in a raspy voice:

"_A key choice has been fulfilled in the hourglass of time…but a side has not been decided…in the war that is on the verge of developing. The foe has already been made, but the friend has not yet been discovered. Be forewarned…the enemies will be reversed…what you see is not what you see…_"

Trelawney let go off Harry's arm. She blinked numerous times and then cleared her throat. It was then that she noticed Harry standing beside her because she turned quickly and said, "Oh, Mr. Potter! What are you doing here?"

"I…err…I came to get my robe. I left it behind."

"Well, don't let me stop you," Trelawney replied. She took a rich purple cloth from the desk and placed it gently over the glass orb. She slid over a large pile of evaluations, which she had taken notes on while each student stared into the orb, and starting looking over them, quill in hand.

Completely bewildered, Harry walked away slowly, bent over to pick up his robe, and soundlessly left the room. Perhaps she hadn't noticed that she had gone into a daze and told him some bizarre story about a choice and an upcoming war. Though how she didn't know was beyond him. And he hadn't heard of a war coming. It was then the idea struck him: Did she just tell him a prophecy? She was a Divination teacher after all, but he had thought she was a fraud.

Outside the Great Hall, Draco and Blaise were waiting for him. "What took so long?" his blond-haired friend asked.

Harry thought of telling them what she had said, but he wasn't even sure what it meant. Maybe she had experienced some sort of weird attack. But logic told him otherwise. No one spews random phrases like that while having seizures, so that was definitely not health-related. It was foresight-related.

"She just kept talking to me about the Inner Eye."

"Trelawney's such a weirdo. I don't understand why Dumbledore keeps her here as a teacher," said Blaise. "She should be shipped off to the Beauxbaton Academy or the Salem Witches' Institute."

"There are other Wizarding schools?" Harry asked, as they started walking down the Dungeon steps.

"Of course! Didn't you ever notice that the only students here are from the United Kingdom? What you just didn't think that the rest of the world has magical abilities?" Blaise asked. "Beauxbaton is in France and Salem Witches' Institute is in the States. And then there is a bunch more around the world."

"I guess I never thought about it before."

"Well, you should," said Draco, a small smirk on his face.

"Why?"

"My father said that the Ministry is considering bringing back the Triwizard Tournament next year. It's not official yet, but it probably will be sometime soon."

"What's the Tri—?"

"I keep forgetting that you don't know all this," said Draco. "It's a tournament between Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. There hasn't been one for over two-hundred years because too many students were dying. The main gist is that one champion is chosen from each school, and they compete in extremely dangerous tasks, as well as undermine each other, for the main prize – the Goblet of Fire."

Blaise added, "And, of course, to be named the winner. It's a great honor for the champion and their school."

"Death-defying tasks, cheating champions, and an honorable prize. I think I'll pass. I've had enough of fame and death to last me a lifetime. I'll let someone else take this one," Harry replied in a slightly joking manner. He spoke the password as Blaise laughed.

As they walked into the abundantly-emerald and overcrowded common room, Draco said, "You never know, Harry, something could change. Next year, you might actually be a champion."

* * *

"Hurry up! Come on! Everyone on the train!" Hagrid bellowed loudly, ushering hundreds of students onto the Hogwarts Express. Harry dragged his large trunk behind him as he held Hedwig's cage under this left arm. It was so crowded on the platform that he could only inch forward to get to the train.

Eventually, he, Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle were sitting in a compartment, waiting for the train to begin its journey and bring the students back home. They made the most of the day by playing Exploding Snap and talking for hours about plans for the summer, the possibility of being champions in the Triwizard tournament, and girls they thought were pretty.

When dusk came and Harry knew the trip was coming to a close, he could only think of 4 Privet Drive, of the not-so-loving family he was returning to again, and how he wished he didn't have to continue going back to them.

As if reading his mind, Draco asked, "You're coming to Malfoy Manor this summer, right? My family and I are going on a trip to Spain and Portugal from July 12th to August 1st, so you can come over the 2nd. I'll have to confirm the dates with my father first, but I think that's correct."

"Of course I'm coming over. You honestly think I want to stay with my Aunt and Uncle the entire summer? If you don't let me in, I'm _breaking in_," Harry joked.

"And it wouldn't be too hard for you, considering you have the Manor on your Conglomerate Stone," replied Draco. They both laughed heartily, and not a half-hour later, the Hogwarts Express came to a noisy halt with even noisier students crowding the thin corridor, hands holding the handles of the trunks that trailed behind them. On the platform were dispersed groups of families: mothers and fathers, younger brothers and sisters, who were waiting anxiously for their teenaged family member.

Blaise shook Draco and Harry's hands and then walked away, saying that he saw his mother's friend through the crowd. "Don't forget: my mum's wedding is the 17th of August! See ya then!"

"Bye, Blaise!" Harry and Draco exclaimed, dragging their trunks along. As Draco looked around the platform for his mother, Harry was bumped forcefully in the shoulder from behind. He saw a flash of orange as he turned toward the person, and saw that it was Ron Weasley, who was walking with his sister, Ginny, and Granger.

"Oops," Weasley said sarcastically. The movement was done without his sister and Granger, who were immersed in conversation, from knowing because they hadn't turned to look at him. Harry watched with a clenched jaw, as they walked away, and were soon lost among the throng.

"There's my mum," Draco said without much emotion. They strolled over, past other Hogwarts students and their families, and when Mrs. Malfoy saw them, a small but genuine smile appeared on her face. "Draco! Harry!" she said with mild enthusiasm. Draco embraced his mother quickly, looking slightly embarrassed afterward. "It's good to see you again, Harry. I hope your third year went well." Mrs. Malfoy extended her hand, which Harry shook.

"It's good to see you too, Mrs. Malfoy. It was better than the others in some respects, I'd say, but not so much in others."

"Sorry to hear that."

"It's all right. Hopefully the next one will be better."

Mrs. Malfoy nodded. "Will you be coming over this summer? We always look forward to it. I'm afraid we'll be abroad for quite some time, but you're welcome to stay when we get back."

"Yeah, I'd love that," Harry said, smiling. "Well, I better get going. My family's probably looking for me. Unfortunately."

"Punch your uncle in the face for me."

"Oh, I will. You can count on that!" Harry laughed. "Bye, Draco."

"Bye, Harry."

Entering the Muggle world felt like going into another dimension or like landing on a different planet. In a way, he should have been used to it by now, but it still left him feeling empty and incomplete. His other half was gone and he didn't like not being able to have it. He felt his wand in his pocket, knowing that for now it would simply remain a piece of wood and not a magical object.

The Dursley's were waiting for him near Platform 11, obviously not wanting to get too close to the thing they dared not speak of. Without a word, only a nod of Uncle Vernon's head, they started walking toward the parking lot. Though he would be confined to a small room for most of his stay on Privet Drive, Harry was hopeful that the summer and his fourth year would be better than the last. It can't get worse than staying with Snape and believing a murderer was after you, right?

------

**A/N:** The third year is done! Are you happy or sad? Don't you just want to dive into the next year? I certainly do! However, I'll give the readers who didn't have time to finish the story another week, and then we're onto Harry's next adventures on the 20th of February! I hope you've liked what I've come up with for the series thus far! Obviously you wouldn't be reading if you didn't (lol!), but if there was something in particular you liked or didn't like, I'd like to know. Your constructive criticism is what helps me become a better writer, and I hope I have. Anyway, stay tuned for **A Different Road IV****: The Outsider Amidst Turmoil!** Check out the summary on my profile! Cheers!

~Sara


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